


The fall of the high and mighty

by Ava626



Category: Spooks | MI-5
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Smut, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 08:55:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 24,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5157755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ava626/pseuds/Ava626
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Lushanka Lucas meets Charlotte, a somewhat mysterious woman that captures his heart. But who is she really? And what is her role in his world of spies and lies?</p><p>In this fic, Lucas is John Bateman, but he didn't intentionally bomb the embassy.<br/>Unbetaed, all mistakes are mine, my humble apologies.</p><p>Feedback is always appreciated!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Home office, june 21st 2008

It was a truly, truly ugly building, he though as they drove into Marsham Street. Without a doubt, the architect must have a fetish for glass and steel. And abuse LSD, gathering from the so called artistic geometric shapes. He sighed deeply and rubbed his face. His suit wasn’t comfortable, the shoes felt like they were three sizes too small and the bow tie was slowly cutting off his circulation. All this for a party which was not only hopelessly useless, but also major security risk, everyone agreed on that except the host.

But nonetheless Harry dragged along one of them with him every year so he wouldn’t have to endure a night of shameless ass sucking to the home secretary and pretending everything was peacefull and calm in their beloved Great Britain. And this year it was his turn to be Harry’s guest. He wondered why Harry had chosen him, certainly Jo or Ben would be a much more pleasant conversationpartner for ‘the high and mighty’ that were to attend and Ros would more than certainly meet their expectation of an elusive MI5 ‘spook’.

“We’re here.” Harry said, gloom dripping of his face, and he opened the door with greatest reluctance. Lucas followed him with even more hesitation, but smoothed out his face when he was standing next to the car, looking every bit the professional MI5 agent he was supposed to be. When going through the security gates and having a private security guy pat him down and scan him, for some reason they trusted someone hired for money to handle security for Britain’s finest, he saw her walking by him, entering the grand hall without the slightest hindrance from the annoying East European that felt the need to check every single square inch on his body for concealed weapons he might use against his own employer.

While the other women he saw in the hall all wore ball gowns in stuffy fabrics and too wide skirts in an attempt to either hide their expanding hips or to imitate the queen, she most certainly did not. Her black dress had a low cut, lace back that revealed the absence of any bra. In the front, it seemed like it was bandaged around her or something, showing off her tiny waist en perfectly proportiate hips. The train flowed behind her when she walked, pulling attention to her high heeled pumps that for some reason had red soles. Her hair was, again contrary to other women, loose, honey blond strand lighting up in the light amongst the brown mass of curls at the bottom. The only thing that blemished her perfectly smooth skin was an Arabic looking tattoo down her spine, but even that seemed to fit with her general ‘je ne sai quoi’ attitude.

The first hour passed in a blur, speaking to everyone with a high enough security clearance to know he was a spy in her majesty’s Security Service. To his and his feet’s relief he managed to slip away from the large crowd and take a seat on one of the chaise longues that were placed at the sides of the hall, and he spent some time observing the guests.

Eight years had passed, and the world had changed immensely. He felt like he had missed an entire century. Music wasn’t listened on a discman anymore, but on a ‘pod’ that was operated by pressing on a screen instead of buttons.Video’s had been completely replaced by DVD’s, a fact he would like to have known before he went into a record store and was all but laughed at by the clerk when he asked where the video’s were, and girls had gone to wearing even less yet screaming about being objectified by society. But here, time seemed to have stood still. The same people were still sucking up to the same, or comparable, higher ups, wearing the same, talking about the same subjects and showing of the same riches.

But she seemed different. Her clothes and accesories didn’t scream ‘MONEY’, though he doubted they were cheap, and her laugh trinkled through the other noises in the room, not high and fake or non-existant. She was speaking to the HS and some of his more important guests, placing her hand on the upper arm of the former and smiling at their comments. He wondered who she was. If she was the wife, girlfriend or mistress of the HS, he would have known, as they would have had to do a security check. And if she was someone trying to gain influence over the HS or even a foreign spy, Harry would have told him.

A moment later, she disappeared into the crown and he resumed his observations.

“You are the only one showing how bored and irritated you are.”

He looked up and saw her taking a seat next to him, a small smile ghosting over her lips. “Yes, well, I do not have any interest in grobling my way up to the graces of the home secretary.”

She laughed, a genuine laugh, devoid of any sarcasm, and looked up at him. “Been out in the field too long to appreciate the finer aspects of spying for her majesty?”

“Something like that.”

“Must have been a rough field then. Perhaps I should change my career goals.”

He chuckled, looking at her with disbelief. “You want to be a spy?”

“Not if it earns me a long stint in a Russian prison.”

His disbelief turned into distrust. “What do you think you know?” He growled.

“You are very uncomfortable in your suit, logically since it’s a rental, and you keep tugging at your collar, as if you feel suffocated. Everyone here is wearing a Savile Row bespoke, and if you moved in these circles regularily, you would also have one. You don’t, but you were introduced as Nicholas’ poster boy for our strong and tough Security Service, so you must have lost your whole wardrobe. The tattoo on your wrist is obviously a prison job, since it’s five dots, and the coloring shows it’s from Russia.”

“You have een observing me, and doing a good job at that.

She smiled again, and it took some of his irritation away. “Talked to Nicholas, but perhaps I could have known by myself.”

“And what are you to ‘Nicholas’?” he emphasised the HS’ name, showing his astonishment that she somehow knew him intimately enough to be n a first name basis.

“Just another girl he wants to impress by bragging about his superspies. He went just shy of you having x-ray vision and the ability to make yourself invisible.”

He couldn’t help it, he wanted to remain grumpy and annoyed, but her candid somehow made him laugh despite of himself, and he found himself wanting to make her laugh as well. “If I really had those abilities, I would be in heaven. Imagine all the fitting boots in lingerie stores I could be lurking around. I don’t think I would ever work again.”

Her laugh caught the attention of both Harry and the HS, and they looked at them with disproval, though in the eyes of the HS some jealousy was also visible. When Harry noticed that, he walked over to them.

“Lucas, why don’t you introduce me.” He said with enough authority in his voice to make the smirk disappear from Lucas’ face.

“I’d love to Harry, but I haven’t been introduced myself.”

“Well then gentlemen, allow me. I’m Charlotte.”

After the usual small talk people made when being introduced, Charlotte excused herself with a small wink to Lucas and joined the other guests again.

“I don’t think you should take that path, Lucas. We would not want to offend our host. If you remember, he is also our employer.” Harry said, following Lucas' stare.

“Not to worry, Harry, we were just making small talk.”

 

Later that night, Charlotte came to sit next to him again. “I have to go to another party, would you like to join me there later?”

“You’re leaving the HS’ annual mingling to go to another party?! And you wish to drag me down that ill adviced path as well?” He laughed.

“It’s a party for a friend’s birthday at Egg. Just tell the cabdriver Egg and he’ll know enough. I’ll put you on the guest list.”

And with that she left, leaving only a subtle wave of expensive perfume and an urge in Harry to get more intel on her.


	2. Egg London, june 22nd 2008

“Lucas North, I’m on the guest list.”

When the doorman found his name on the list, he flicked his fingers and a hostess immediately came and showed him to a courtyard where benches had been placed under drapes, giving it the atmosphere of a roman bacchanal. The basses of the sounds they called music here even penetrated into this outside area, but it was much more relaxed here than inside. He actually felt old when he was led through the dancing crown of youngsters.

“Anyone specific you are looking for?” The hostess asked in a seductive voice, her eyes fixed on his lips.

“Charlotte.” He felt like an idiot, not being able to give a last name, but she just smiled, though a little less enthusiastic when she heard he was looking for a woman, and brought him to the center of the courtyard. The benches here were places in a square around small gold tables filled with fruits and decanters of wine and spirits, gold sprayed servers waving cool air to the guest with fans made of ostrich feathers.

“Lucas! You came!” Gracefully, Charlotte stepped off one of the benches and walked to him, kissing him on the cheek as greeting. Her cheek felt cool and soft against his stubble and the hand she placed on his shoulder made him feel welcome.

“Who could refuse such an invitation?” he said, not wanting to show his discomfort. Literally everyone here, even the doorman, was better dressed than him, and it made him feel ill at ease. Before Lushanka, he was alway dressed well, and he missed his old wardrobe, now more than ever.

“Is something wrong? Do you not like it?” She asked, worry spreading over her face.

“I fear I may be ill equipped to be your guest tonight.” He said, but before he could continue her look turned disappointed. “I mean I completely failed in adhearing to the dress code. Not because of you.” He said quickly, and her radiant smile appeared again.

“I believe substance is always to be chosen over looks, mr. North, and you have enough of that.”

She led him to an empty sofa and they sat down together, eating grapes, drinking too much and talking about everything and nothing. As she had been as the HS’ party, he knew her security level was high enough for him to talk freely, and it was a relief to have a conversation with someone to whom he didn’t have to lie about his work, his name or even his pastimes.


	3. Savile Row, july 1st 2008

He walked to the crossing of Conduit and Mill street from the bus stop at New Bond street. It would have been easy enough to get one of the MI5 cars, but he needed time to think, and thinking was impossible if one were to drive in the madness of London traffic. After their night at Egg he had tried to go home with her by offering her a ride, but she had told him she had a car service picking her up. He hadn’t dared to press further, as she was somehow connected with the HS and Harry had not been too happy with him talking to her in the first place. But she did give him her phonenumber, asking him to call her.

At first, he hadn’t intended to call her. He felt like he didn’t have room for something serious in his life right now, work took up the lion share of his time, and trying to get back on his feet took up the rest. But Friday night he had felt especially down and lonely, and he had made the call anyway. And now he found himself meeting her for lunch and some shopping. He had no idea why had had agreed, he hated shopping with women, especially if they were of the chaotic kind that ran from shop to shop without a clear plan, which most women did.

But when they greeted, again with a soft kiss on his cheek, they did not turn left to the shops that would have interested her, but left to Savile Row. He arched an eyebrow at her, and she smiled apologetically.

“Your suit did not do you justice.”

“You know I am a government employee, right? I may be of the higher echelons with regard to payment, but even for me Savile Row is somewhat on the expensive side.”

“Consider it a thank you gift from your country for your years of dedication.”

Normally he would have been offended by a woman offering to pay for him, but her smile showed she would not accept no for an answer, not did he want to give her a no. He just wanted to walk into the first tailor they passed, but she took his arm and led hm to another shop.

“Huntsman and Sons will be better for someone with your built.”

“My built?”He looked down at his body. “is my built off or something?”

“I think it’s perfect. But you need a good tailor to make your suit fit well. Otherwise your pants would be too small and your jacket too big at the waist and too small at the shoulders.”

He looked at her with a sort of sarcastic doubt on his face that he knew would make her laugh again. “What, do you not trust me?” she said laughingly. “Just wait and see. And besides, the tailor is hilarious.”

He wanted to say something back, but they had reached the entrance to the store and were enthusiastically greeted by a short, thin man with glasses so thick his eyes looked huge. When he led them to the bespoke area, they shared a look and he saw she already had to hold back her laugh.

“Long time no see, Charlotte. Are you well?” the tailor asked politely, and they exchanged some pleasanteries about one of her acquintances that also frequented the shop and with whom she had been here before. He felt a hot flash of jealousy coming up through his chest, but reminded himself that she was in no way his; this was only the second time he saw her.

After that, he was shown several fabrics and models, the tweed ones making her burst out in giggles, as he appearantelt looked absolutely miserable in them. She rather pointed him towards classic blacks and blues, with single row buttons and pants that were suspiciously tight at his rear area.

Then came the moment the tailor put him on a small pedistole mounted at the floor and the measuring began. The first minutes went just fine, but then it turned out it was completely impossible fort h man to measure his torso without him taking his shirt off. Charlotte burst into another fit of quiet giggles, biting her lower lip to prevent herself for making any noise. He almost pouted at her, but then he saw her turn the slightest bit pink in the cheeks when he took his shirt off. He flexed his pecs for good measure and enjoyed watching her irisses widen and her eyelids droop just the slightest bit as she watched him through her eyelashes, pretending to look at her hands.

When everything was picked, he saw Charlotte hand the tailor an American Express Centurion card. If things hadn’t changed in eight years, you could not just apply for the most expensive creditcard in the world, you had to be invited to joint he elite group of owners.

They had lunch at Hibiscus, and though unknown by Lucas, Charlotte told him all her friends had told her to eat here, as it appearantely was ‘the place to be’ right now. She emphasized ‘the place to be’, somehow mocking the term, or the users, he did not know. What he did know was that there was lot more to her than he had believed, and he liked talking to her. With others, it was quite an effort to keep his attention with what they were saying, or they wanted to prod and probe at him, trying to get him to open up about his time at Lushanka. But with her it was light and flowy, and when he looked at his watch, he saw they had already been sitting in the restaurant for three hours. She had mainly been speaking about either his interests or general topics, and he thought it about time that he found out more about her.

“What do you do, Charlotte?”

“I just finished my study psychology at Cambridge, and now I find myself with an abundance of leisure time.”

“Psychology? I wouldn’t have guessed that.” He said.

“Would you prefer it if I asked about every aspect of your life and then focus on your relationship with your mother?” She joked, teasing him with a cheeky smile. “I could do that, but I though I would save it for dinner sometime.”

“Dinner huh. Is that an invitation?”

“I could be if you want it to be. Or if you’re too busy, or just not interested, it could just be a joke.”

“I think I am interested, though my kitchen is not very well equiped.”

She laughed. “Do not expect me to cook, mr. North. Boiled water comes out of a tap in my house, so I can not even boast to be able to cook an egg. My talents lie more in the area of chosing the perfect take out.”

 

The afternoon turned into evening, and dinner together came sooner than expected, followed by drinks. At two in the night she finished her cosmopolitan and told she had to leave. He also finished his drink and held out her coat for her.

Out in the street, he hailed a taxi and held the door open before sliding in after her.

“6 Upper Belgrave Street please.” She told the driver thorugh the glass partition and then turned back to him.

“Do you think actually ever buy something from there?”

He had to switch for a moment. His thoughts had been occupied by the adress she had given the driver. Without a doubt it was the most desirable adress in the whole London area, and prices had gone through the roof even before he left due to the many richt hat wanted to settle in London, or have a town house. If she owned an appartment there, she was even more wealthy than her credit card would lead him to believe.

“From where?”

She pointed at the small screen mounted at the partition that separated them from the driver. “I mean, is there actually someone who gets in a taxi and thinks ‘hmmm, I believe I am in dire need of a gold plated replica of the duchess of York’s engagement ring’?”

He chuckled. “I have heard stranger things.”

“Yes, well, I believe that’s an occupational hazard.”

He looked at her and felt the sudden urge to put his arm around her shoulder and pull her closer, feel her hand on his leg and her heartbeat against his chest. But he controlled himself and forced himself to listen to the light chatter. When they arrived at her adress, he had to get out so she also could, and he handed the driver the amount due with a rather generous tip before he extended his hand to help her out. As she walked to the front door, he followed her and then they found themselves standing under the balcony that adorned the front of her house.

She fidgetted with her keys, looking at her hands to supposedly find the right key. He knew it was now or never and he stood closer to her. When she looked up, he knew she was looking at his lips and he slowly brought them to hers while putting his arms around her waist. He felt the familiar tingle in his stomach he always got being in such a situation, and when their lips met, there was a spark of electricity surging through him.

He started kissing her softly, but when she started kissing him back, he became more passionate, putting his right hand at the back of her head, softly fisting her hair. His left hand that had been sitting at her lower back, slowly went down and he softly squeezed her bum. His breathing sped up, and he pulled her closely to him, wanting to feel all of her.

When he became more passionate, she broke their contact. “I—I have to get in now.” She said, her breathing as heavy as his. He looked at her questionningly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Charlotte shook her head. “No, no it’s not that. I just—I don’t do this ‘one night’ thing, I—I need there to be more.

This was of course not what he had wanted to hear, but he smiled and cupped her cheek, giving her another small kiss. “Call you tomorrow?”

She nodded and then went in, closing the door in front of him. It was completely and utterly frustrating. After eight years of being deprived of female company he had yearned for Elisaveta’s touch first, and then she turned out to have moved on. And then he had yearned for Charlotte’s, but she was what seemed to be the last woman on earth that saw sex and love as one. Looking down to his throbbing groin, he resigned to a night with just himself again.


	4. Hyde Parc, july 2nd 2008

The answer came in the form of a mix between a groan and a moan, and he had to hold back his laughter. “Too early?”

“No, no, what can I do for you, at seven in the morning?” Even when still groggy, she managed to emphasize the ‘seven’ in her sentence in the most sarcastic way, yet still make him feel it was no real problem.

“You see, I’m having a rather quiet day and I thought perhaps, lunch, or something?” Internally he cursed himself colorfully. He was stammering like a thirteen year old trying to ask a girl out for the first time. Bloody idiot!

“i’d love to. Where and when?”

“Since you’re the take out specialist, I’ll leave the place up to you. Say one o’clock?”

She hummed in approval. “Hyde Park?”

He raised his eyebrow in surprise, having expected another ‘place to be’ but instead got an afternoon in the park. “Sure, where?”

“The princess Diana Memorial.”

“Alright, I see you there at one.”

While Lucas did his job with a smile the rest of the morning, Charlotte rolled out of bed with the healthy reluctance of someone who stayed up too late and got out of bed too early. She wondered how Lucas had managed to sound soa wake and cheerfull.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

“You brought a picknick.” He said with a satisfied smile when he saw her hauling a wicker basket, her heels sinking a bit in the soft grass.

“For future references: remind me not to wear heels to the park. And please do remember that I like gentlemen that carry heavy luggage and such for women.” She panted, waving her free hand in an attempt to keep her balance.

He immediately stepped forward, took the basket and then offered her his arm before she would unceremonially fall on the grass. After a small kiss, they walked further into the park untill she reached the spot she deemed suitable. When he put down the basket, she opened in and pulled out a tweed blanket, spread it out and then popped down on it, pulling of her shoes with a very satisfied moan. With a smile, he sat down next to her. She really looked lovely today, he thought. A flowy white dress that showed of her waist and clevage, but was still elegant enough not to be trampy.

But then he heard it, the fountain switching on and the sound of running water. His throat constricted and he desperately tugged at the collar of his shirt to get air.

“Lucas, what wrong? Are you alright?” She put a hand on his upper arm, worry etched into her face, but he couldn’t speak and her hand felt like she was trying to hold him down, so he violently shrugged it off.

Charlotte looked around, trying to figure out what might have happened and then she saw the fountain. The pieces of the puzzle fell together, and she turned back to Lucas.

“Put your feet firmly on the ground.”She instructed, and repeated it when he didn’t react. “You’re safe, Lucas. You’re in Hyde Park, there is nothing but grass and trees around you. You’re safe.” She whispered in his ear. “Now press your feet into the ground.”

Her soft voice had calmed him somewhat and he was able to do as she said. “Now put your head between your knees and take my hand.”

Her grey painted nails came into his sight, and he desperately clutched it, holding on to it like he was drowining and it was his life buoy. “Now breath, Lucas. Breath in deeply through your nose and hold your breath.” She softly stroked his back with her free hand. “Now breath out slowly, feel the air going out of your lungs, through your trachea and out of your mouth. It is only air, Lucas.”

After several minutes of sitting hunched with his head between his legs and focussing only on his breathing, he started to feel better. But he also became more aware of what had just happened, and in front of whom, and his cheeks started to turn pink of shame.

He felt her hand going through his hair, and only then he realised he was still holding her other hand quite tightly. When he release dit, she didn’t rub it as he had expected, but she sat closer to him. “Don’t Lucas. Hold my hand for as long as you need.”

He brusquely stood up and turned away from her. “I’m not a patient, Charlotte. There is nothing wrong with me!”

She hadn’t expected him suddenly barking at her like that, and she flinched a bit. “Lucas, I—“

But he didn;t want to hear it He didn’t want to hear the pity in her voice, he didn’t want to hear how he had changed from a possibly interesting man to someone to be taken care of, and he really didn’t want to hear the fountain anymore. So he did the only thing he felt he could do; he walked away.


	5. Upper Belgrave Street, july 15th 2008

“Yes?” She opened the door without looking at first, her attention at a phone conversation she was having. But when she saw it was him at the door, looking rather handsomely in his dark grey new suit with red tie, she ended the conversation with a few short words and turned her full attention to him.

To his surprise Charlotte was wearing pajama’s, though instead of the fuzzy sweatpants with childish motives that every girl seemed to wear right now, they were silk ones and had a subtle Burberry stripe and she wore a tan cashmere vest over it. But the cutest thing was that she had her hair up in a messy bun and was wearing glasses that made look just the slightest bit geeky, like one of those girls that were as heavily into computerprogramming and comic books as their male counterparts, but with at least a small sense of fashion. It made him feel a little less tense over seeing her again after the debacle at Hyde Parc.

“Come in.” She said shyly, but also a bit tensed. She rarely invited people over to her house, prefering to meet them somewhere else and keep her house her sanctuary. But she was ready to let him in, actually felt like she wanted him there.

He greeted her with a long, passionate kiss that left them both a bit flustered, after which she took his hand and let him to the sitting room. When he glanced around he noticed she had opened up the house, getting rid of all the unneccessary walls that were so popular in the nineteenth century. Her kitchen was made completely of stainless steel, giving it an industrial look that somehow went well with the oaken floors and clean white walls. If the furniture had been in the same style, the house would have felt cold and unpersonal, but she had chosen a comfortable, large grey sofa with fluffy pillows to make it even more cosy. The dining room table was a large, oaken monestary model, but combined with Vitro chairs to make it fit in with the rest of the house. He couldn’t help but wonder what her bedroom looked like.

“I’m having a relaxed night in catching up with watching Breaking Bad and eating cheese crackers, hence the clothing.” She started, looking down at what she perceived to be a acompletely inappropriate attire for receiving him. “You’re welcome to join.”

He smirked, amused by this other side of her, but happy to join her in her relaxation and putting off their conversation just a little while longer, so he nodded.

She got up with a smile and disappeared into an adjoining room, only to come out moments later with pajamas matching, only in a dark blue tone and in cotton instead of silk. Still with a smirk he got up, took of all his clothes except his boxer briefs and took the offered housewear from her. His smirk became a satisfied smile when he saw the way she looked at him when he took his shirt off.

But he remained a gentleman and pretended not to see, only turning to look at her after he was dressed again.

“So tell me, what is this Breaking Bad? I have heard many people talk about it, but it sounds rather farfetched to me.”

She giggled. “In a sense, it is. But somehow a teacher making chrystal meth is rather entertaining.”

She handed him a cracker with brie from the plate on the table and watched contendly as he chewed. “Did you have a busy day?” She asked as he had finished his bite.

“More stressfull than busy. But I think it wasn’t as stressfull as yours if cheese crackers are supposed to be your dinner.”

When she didn’t answer but just looked at him, he pulled her into his arms and put a pillow on his lap and pushed and pulled at her untill she was lying with her head on it. “Satisfied?” She asked with a mocking smile, that turned into a fond one when he happily nodded. He started playing with her hair, softly scratching her scalp, and for a while they sat like that, contend with eachother’s company.

But the she sat up a bit and looked at him. “I need to know if you came to just sit like this or if you wanted to talk.” She said, her facial expression not giving away which option she would prefer.

“I—I came to explain myself.” He softly said, the rumble in his voice reverberating in her chest.

“You don’t have to, Lucas. I thought about what you said, and you were right: I acted as a psychologist. And I don’t want to be your psychologist.”

For a moment he thought, and then he slowly and thoughtfully nodded. “I don’t want you to be either, but I want something more with you, so I need to explain myself.”

As she remained quiet, he took a deep breath and then starated. “During one of my missions in Russia, I was caught. They had identified me as being MI5 and had been following me for weeks. I still have no idea how they knew who I was, but fact is, they did. So they took me to a detainee centre an hour or so from Moskou and tried to get intel from me and turn me.” He clenched his jaw. Untill now, the story was a cold, factual representation of proceedings, but if he continue dit would be harder. “They tortured me, waterboarding, electroshocks, things like that.” He tried to remain detached, but it was difficult as it was the first time he told someone. Due to the hectic at The Grid, Harry hadn’t come round to getting him debriefed; he was needed in the field more. When Charlotte moved, he was pulled from his thoughts and he noticed she was no longer lying on his lap, but sitting next to him, softly stroking his neck.

“And then?”

He scoffed. “Then I got a new interrogator that seemed to like me, only a little too much.” He had meant for it to come out as a sarcastic joke, but the flood of feelings that rushed through him had seeped through in his voice, and he felt he sounded pathetic.

“I’m sorry for you, Lucas.” She softly said, leaning her head against his.

“This is why I didn’t want anyone to know, I don’t want your pity!” He said, hiding his shame behind anger.

“It’s not pity, Lucas, it’s empathy. And even if it was pity, is it really so bad for me to hate that you have been in pain? Is it so bad that it hurts me that you went through that? I—I care for you, Lucas, and I wish nothing but hapiness for you.”

He looked at her, having expected a withdrawl, but getting her love instead. “You make me happy.” He whispered hoarsely, putting his hand on the back of her neck and softly stroking the humps and bumps of her spine

“Lucas, I—“ But whatever she wanted to say was cut of by his kiss. After a moment of surprise, she put her arms around his neck and let her tongue and lips meet his movements. She felt relieved he still wanted to do ‘this’, even after his outburst, and she gave herself over to his passion.

When his lips moved to her neck, paying extra attention to that spot under her ear that evoked little keening noises, she managed to utter ‘bedroom’, hoping he would take the lead as she did not think her legs were strong enough to carry her at this point. Luckily, he picked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist and stood up.

“Where to?” He asked huskily, the vibrations of his low voice feeling delicious on her neck.

“To the hall, up the stairs and to the right.”

Going surprisingly fast, considering he was also holding her and still kissing her neck, they were upstairs in what felt like a heartbeat.

“Which door?”

“The last one.” She practically moaned out

He threw open the door and without even paying attention to his surroundings, put her on the bed. There, he continued to open her top and when he was done, just pulled his own over his head, not even bothering with buttons.

Her heart jumped a bit when she saw his muscled chest and abdomen again, her breathing speeding up when he hovered over her, leaning on his hands next to her head. But then he saw the flush on her cheeks.

“Do you not want this?” he asked, backing up a bit.

“I—I do. I really do. It’s just—I have only been with one other man, and I—“

“Trust me. And if you want to stop, just say so.” He said with an uncharacteristically tender smile.

He kissed along the curve of her ear, the soft, delicate touches making her feel like she wasn’t completely anchored to this world anymore. From there, he went onto her neck, kissing along the throbbing artery, all the way down to her collarbone. He followed the line of it, untill he reached the little dimple in the middle and then licked down her sternum as he cupped her breasts and pulled down the cup of her bra. He rubbed her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. They were not heavy, but a perfect handfull that stood firm. And soft. Soft as rose paddles and creamy as fresh milk, he revelled, as he felt the skin beneath his lips.

“Lucas.” She whispered, and he smirked at hearing his name, knowing she would repeat it more times this night. He started sucking at her left nipple, while holding the right between his fingers. He pressed it against his upper teeth with his tongue and then lapped at it to soothe the sting. After a while he repeated it with her right nipple, and then went down to the soft and sensitive flesh just under her bra, where the mound met her ribcage. In any other case he would have tickled the receptive skin with his stubble, but now he just wanted to bring her to the precipe of pleasure without anything distracting her from her enjoyment. So he sat on his knees en went further along, languidly trailing his tongue in spirals down her belly untill he reached the small hollow in the middle of it, licking circles around it, and dipping his tongue in it. Her hips already started tilting instinctively, unconsciously drawing his attention to the place she wanted it, but he intented to stretch out the moment, enhance her arousal by making her wait. After eight years, he wanted to make the most of it, especialy wth her. So he placed his lips at her left tigh and sucked at the firm flesh, making little red traces, marking her as his. When he reached her knee, he switched to her right leg and went upwards, ending at her upper inner tigh, just shy of the edge of her knickers. He slowly licked along it, untill he was at her her hipbone, and then he went up again.

When his hand reached behind her to unhook her bra, she sat up and wanted to start kising him, softly pushing him so he would lie on his back. But he resisted and she pulled back. He did not want to be the one on the bottom, the one being told what to do, he wanted it to be different, wanted to be in charge.

“I need to be in control of this.” He whispered.

Instead of getting into it, she softly kissed to corner of his mouth and looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to make a move. He bent over her again and resumed his kisses to her neck and chest while fidgeting in an attempt to open her bra. With a small smile, she opened it herself and then leaned back and into his warmth and soft kisses all around her nipples, teasing the receptive skin. Not untill she started to arch her back in pleasure and longing, he closed his lip around her nipples and softly sucked and nipped at the sensitive bud.

Her fastened and deepened breath spurred him on, making him enoy his first experience with a woman after Lushanka even better.

From her nipples he languidly licked and kissed a trial down her belly, savouring the softness and taste of her skin. He had planned to take his time even further, but when he pulled down her knickers and saw the hairless, inviting flesh he just couldn’t wait anymore and he ran his tongue from her entrance up to her clit. The sudden overload of senses made her moan out and tilt her hips and he softly sucked her clit, making slow twirls with his tongue around it, speeding up when her breath intensified. When she moaned his name, he enterd her with one finger and curled it up again and again. The inviting warmness inside of her made him even harder and he already felt the precum dripping out of his cock. She moaned out his name again and he felt her muscles tensing up untill she threw back her head and came with a breathy groan.

Lucas looked at her body and noticed the small shimmer of sweat on it with a satisfied smirk. He wanted to take a condom out of his his pocket, but to his utter annoyance he remembered he had left his jeans downstairs. When Charlotte noticed him looking around, she pointed to the drawer of her nightstand with a small smile and he opened it so fast he nearly completely pulled out it. After grabling around it for a bit, his hand found what he was looking for and he opened the package impatiently and rolled the condom on in one swift move. At least that was something he hadn’t forgotten.

He sat on his knees and bent over her, softly kissing her. With his ex-wife he had known exactly when she was ready and how she wanted it, but with Charlotte he didn’t know yet. However, when he felt her hips rubbing against him he felt quite assured she wanted him, and while leaning on his left forearm, he guided his cock to her entrance and started pushing in. She gasped at the intrusion and he slowed down, pulling out a bit and then pushing back in a bit further.

“I won’t break, Lucas.” Charlotte whispered while she looked at him with a small smile.

He groaned and pushed in futher untill he was burried to the hilt. When he pulled out and then pushed back in, he already felt the familiar coiling in his stomach.

“I don’t think –I can last—very long” he panted.

She hooked her right leg around his lower back. “Then enjoy now.” She smiled while tilting her hips a bit.

It sent him over the edge of self restarint and he started pushing in faster and harder, groaning out with every movement untill he could hold it no longer and came while grunting her name. After several erratic hip movements he collapsed on top of her and thought of nothing but the overwhelming feeling of bliss he experienced.

“Lucas? Babe?” Charlotte started to move underneath him. “You’re getting a bit heavy.” He immediately rolled of her, taking her with him with a smile. After taking het condom off, he wrapped her in his arms and pulled the blankets over them.

A few hours later he woke to an empty spot besides him. His breath hitched in his throat when he found himself alone, in the dark and with the sound of running water in the background, but he quickly remembered he was in Charlotte’s house and she was probably taking a shower.


	6. The Grid, july 16th 2008

When Charlotte woke up, she quietly got out of bed, put on her pajamas and walked down the stairs. Lucas had still been sleeping soundly, but she thought he might appreciate a breakfast in bed when he woke up. So she took the take out menus from of one of her kitchen drawers and flicked through them trying to find the one of the company that did luxury breakfasts. Having found it, she rang them and just ordered the most complete one, not knowing what he might like to eat. After giving her creditcard number she looked on Facebook for a while, seeing how friends and former classmates were doing.

She heard a soft noise coming from one the back rooms and she went to check it out. She expected it to be her neighbours cat again, as the animal found its wat into her house more and more often, though she had no clue how it did it. But suddenly something was pulled over her head from behind, and she could not see anymore. She trashed against the arms encircling her waist, thrusting back her elbows and kicking in front of her in an attempt to hit anyone near her. Her screams were muffled by the cloth, and then someone took her legs. She could not do anything anymore, especially not when she felt her hands and feet being bound with something that she assumed were zip ties.

Lucas was awoken by the bell ringing and to his surprise he found a breakfast for two being delivered, but no Charlotte.

 

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The hood was pulled off and for a moment she squinted her eyes against the harsh striplights.

“Why don’t you tell us about your employer, Charlotte.” Harry said before she had noticed him or Ros. She turned her head towards him and smiled. “I don’t have an employer at the moment, Harry. But I would like to know what I am doing here.”

“Why don’t you tell us.” Ros said.

“Well, eeeh, what’s your name? I believe we haven’t met yet.”

“Erica. Now why do you think you’re here?”

“As you seem to be the ones that want me here, _Erica_ , I can merely make vague guesses as to your objectives, and I’m not yet awake enough for such speculation. Nor do I really feel like it, so I would much appreciate it if you would show me to the nearest exit.”

“That tattoo on your back, where did you get it?” Harry asked annoyed, not in the mood for wordgames.

“Amsterdam.”

“What were you doing in Amsterdam?”

“It is the capital of my country of birth. Is there any reason I should not visit?”

Harry frowned. His intel said she was English born and raised, and he had heard nor seen anything that contradicted that information. When he asked her about it, she smiled. “If you don’t know, your security clearance is not high enough, Harry.”

That was not possible. Only the HS and the PM had a higher security clearance than him, and she could not be that high up, could she? He decided she was just selling them poppycock, and he proceeded with the questions he had meant to ask her.

“You are using Lucas to gain inside information about MI5. Who sent you?”

Charlotte sighed. “I’m not, Harry.”

“Then tell us the meaning of your tattoo.”

“Which one?”

Harry raised an eyebrow, he had not known she had more than one and was a little curious as to where the others were. “The one on your spine.”

She smirked. “Can’t get it translated?” She asked sarcastically, knowing full well he couldn’t.

“Semper fidelis.”

“The American Navy?”

She sighed again. “No, of course not.”

“And the language?” Ros asked.

“Akin to Arabic, though not tightly related.”

“Why couldn’t we find anyone that knows it and is willing to translate?”

Charlotte shrugged. She knew Lucas would find out that she was here and why, and she knew he would believe Harry and would want nothing more to do with her. So she had nothing to gain from helping them.

“Have you looked in the yellow pages?” She asked without really caring.

“Show us the other tattoos.” Harry said, abandoning his line of questionning regarding the language.

She got up and lifted the top of her pajama so they could see the side of her ribcage where five swallows in several stages of flight stood inked into her skin.

“The tattoo on your back has been recognized by one of our agents, Charlotte.” Ros coldly said.

“You were in the company of some men that are known to have contact with several terrorist leaders as well as government officials from Russia, China, Syria and Iraq.” Harry supplied.

“You forget Tunisia.” She replied dryly.

“So you admit to spying?” Ros asks emotionlessly.

“No. I admit I know men that do have such contacts, but I did not spy.”

“How do you know these men?” Harrys asked.

“I am not at liberty to disclose more information. If you wish to know more, call mr. Brown or Nicholas.”

“I do not think we need them to make you answer.” Ros scoffed at Charlotte’s arrogance.

“You do, as I have a diplomatic passport and can not be detained unless I’m regarded to be a terrorist.”

Harry wanted to ask something, but was disturbed by a sharp knock on the door. When he got up and looked who it was, he saw to his surpise that it was the HS.

“Let her go, Harry. She’s not a spy.”

Harry huffed. “I’m not going to let her go just because you have taken some sort of a liking to her.”

“I said: let her go!” The HS hissed angrily. “And bring her back home in a decent manner!” He abruptly turned around and walked away, the sound of his sharp foorsteps echoing over the stone floor.

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Lucas had gotten worried when he found she wasn’t home and had gone to The Grid in an attempt to find out where she might be. From behind the one way mirror, he had heard it all. When she was brought to the car that took her home, she saw him as well, and the cold, angry look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.


	7. Upper Belgrave Street, july 16th 2008

They had been listening to the boring sounds of Charlotte taking a bath for almost an hour now, and Tariq and Lucas were starting to wonder if they would ever get something usefull tonight. After Harry and Ros had taken her to The Grid this morning, Tariq had bugged every room in her house, but it had yet to yield something. But then her phone rang and they sat up again, ready to finally get something. But she only told someone she was in the bath. Lucas’ thoughts drifted back to the events of the morning. He had been shocked by the shreds of information Harry had given him, but he had managed to hide it behind a mask of indifference. He had trusted her completely, there had not been a single thought of doubt in his mind as to her intentions. But now it turned out she somehow had something to do with shady people, and she had used him. She had faked her feelings, therewith mocking his. But that wasn’t even the worst; the worst was that he had shown himself, had given her his heart, and she had sold it.

He couldn’t stop his melancholic thoughts untill the sound of someone knocking a door reached them through the bugs.

“I’m in the bath, Beni.”

“Then make sure you have enough foam because I’m coming in.”

Sudden splashing noised revealed hurried movements, and Tariq couldn’t help but snicker, untill he remembered who was sittign next to him.

“You actually put a towel over yourself?” The man called Beni laughed. “Did you forget I have seen it all before?”

“That is a long time ago.” Came the undignified response.

“It is, and a much simpler one at that. Tell me about today.”

“Someone from MI5 recognized my tattoo from when I have met with you and James and Redouan.”

“And why were they s interested in you?”

“Perhaps because I date—dated one of their colleagues.”

“You broke up?”

“I guess after today he has.”

“Did he tell you anything interesting?”

Tariq looked at Lucas, whom was staring at the computer intendly, flinching a bit at the last question they heard.

“It is none of your business what he and I talked about.”

“Come on, if he has broke up with you anyway, why does it matter?”

There was a silence so long that Tariq started to worry the bugs didn’t work anymore.

“You cared for him?” The man asked, now in a more empathic voice.

“Yes.” She whispered.

“Shall I kick his ass for leaving you?”

The reply came in the for of something between a snort, a sob and a laugh. “No, it’s my fault. He was honest with me, i should have been hnest with him. And besides, he doesn’t know the whole story, so he doesn’t understand.”

“Do you plan on explaining to him?”

“I don’t think it would help. He doesn’t seem like the type that would forget or forgive this.”

“Then why not tell me what he told you. You know how valueable information can be, even if it is about one of our allies.”

“Because it is none of your business, Beni! Now get out and leave me be!”

They heard a chair scratching over the stone floor and a door being opened. “I’ll have the place checked for bugs tomorrow, you never know.”


	8. The Grid, november 10th 2009

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, a year and four months later. I really didn't like Sarah's charactre, so I only reference ot her in this fic, but decided not to actually write about her.

He stared at the note, unable to move or do anything. This was his worst nightmare come true, this was what he had feard ever since he came back. Just when he had found some peace, met Sarah, it came back with a vengeance. He needed to know who sent it, needed to know how to stop this from happening. There were very few that knew that knew how to send a letter to him at work, and even fewer that knew of the events described on that vile piece of paper. But he couldn’t use their techs to find out where it originated from, no one could know.

 

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“Why do you feel you need to linger in the shadows, Lucas?” She asked without turning around, continueing to look for her keys in her purse as if she could somehow sense he was there.

“Did you send it?” he brusquely asked, not wanting to do pleasantries.

That did make her turn and look at him, and he saw true surprise on her face. “Sent what?”

“The letter, blackmailing me with pictures.”

She stepped closer to him and softly put her hand on his upper arm. “I understand you do not trust me, that you do not want to see me anymore. But I only ever told you the truth. I would never betray you.”

“Semper Fidelis. Forever loyal.” He scoffed, and he shrugged her hand off his arm.

“Forever loyal.” She confirmed with vulnerable honesty in her voice.

He couldn’t stand it. His heart ached for her, but he couldn’t take the leap again. He had been betrayed by women too many times, and now he felt like he couldn’t trust his heart anymore. So he just walked away, left her standing next to her Audi R8. He couldn’t help but smile at that, she took his advice and got a smaller car.


	9. Russia, november-december 2009

“He’s on the move and what you’re looking for has been located.”

The message was brought with a certain sense of urgency, though the bearer looked as calm as ever, standing with his hands in the pockets of his dark, gabardine trenchcoat, leaning against her doorpost. But she wasn’t brought off balance by it, instead it brought a small smile to her face

“Then we’ve got him.”

“There’s no ‘us’ in this, Charlotte. You can use whatever means you need, but it has to seem you’ve gone rogue.”

She scoffed. “If I’m not in, I can’t go rogue.”

“I don’t know how much others know about that. For all we know, they think you’re a sleeper.”

“The jet?”

“Yours. But know that this goes against universal interests. It seems he has intel on an attack in London, so antagonizing him would not be wise.”

With a small, confident smirk she looked at him. “I’ve done it a dozen times, in and out. And besides, if he’s here, he’s not there.”

 

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The first sensation she got was cold, freezing coldness that seeped through her bones. When she tried to open her eyes the first time, she got so dizzy she nearly threw up, so she closed them again remaining in the strangely comforting darkness a little longer.

But then the coldness came again and this time she recognized it as water being thrown over her. That made her realise she was not wearing her clothes, only her underwear.

“Wake up now, little girl. We have some talking to do.” Came a voice, though it seemed to echo through the room so she could not figure out who or where the owner of the voice was.

Charlotte tried to open her eyes again, and she managed to squint without feeling she was being thrown around in a dryer. When her vision steadied, she saw Oleg standing in front of her, and it all came back. It had gone horribly, horribly wrong. She had managed to recover the package and keep it safe, but the jet had been delayed, forcing her to wait in the airport. It was a bit confusing after that, but she remembered giving the package to the pilot, saying nothing was more important than getting it back to the UK.

He thought were disturbed by a cold laugh. “Trying to remember what happened, little girl? Do your best, or this is going to be a long, hard journey.”

She tried to say something back, but when she opened her mouth a pain shot through her jaw. Automatically she wanted to bring her hand to it, feel what was wrong, but her hands were bound, and upon further, tentative exploration so were her feet.

“I love women like this, bound and helpless.” Oleg said with a dark look in his eyes. “But maybe later, I need you to tell me where they are first.”

She tried to move her jaw again, trembling as she did. “Where what are?” She managed to get out.

“My dear, sweet little girl. Has that act worked often? Pretending you are so innocent and know nothing. Tell me and you will be able to continue that act. If you don’t, I will take that innocense of yours, eat it up and spit it out.”

His threats meant little to her, Beni had made sure she was trained in such interrogation. But she knew him, knew what he could do, so she knew what was about to come. But no matter how well informed she was, when it came, she was unprepared.

He put a golf ball in her hand, saying that if she dropped it, he would stop and she could tell him everything and it would all be over. He would give her her clothes back and bring her to the airport and in a few weeks this would be nothing more than a bad dream.

And then the water came. It tickled down her nose and throat and she wanted to cough it out. She had never wanted to cough as bad as she wanted then, but she couldn’t, all it did was make her inhale more water and then it as everywhere. He felt she was overflown by it, helpless to stop it. After the water, there was only the dark and the cold.

Then there was water again, and when the cold and darkness came after that, it was a comfort.

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“You’re a stubborn little girl, with more endurance that I would have given you credit for. I wonder what it takes to break you. What is it that would make you crack, hmmm?”

This time she was tied to a chair, and he had even taken her underwear from her. She removal of those small pieces of cloth made her feel so much more vulnerable, and when her muscles relaxed again after the first shock all she could think about was the way how her body had arched, putting its all on display for him to see.

Not even the dark could comfort her after that, and she cried for him, though she knew he did not hear and would not come.

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“Do you miss him, little girl? Do you miss his whispers in your ear and his promisses in your dreams? Or do you perhaps miss something more substantial?”

As always she ignored him, trying to find that place within herself where everything was perfect. She knew he wanted to make her feel like even her body as not her own anymore, that she fully and completely belonged to him. But she also knew that the mind, if one shielded it, was impenetrable so she had tried to find that place within her head where everything was perfect. But it was harder and harder to find it, as her body reacted to the threat of being drowned by violently pulling her back to reality, urging her to act.

The only thing that truly comforted her was the thought that if she was here and he was still torturing her, the photo’s must be somewhere else. And as she had had them when she spoke to the pilot, it was very likely he had them and they were safe with Beni.

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“Do you long for him, little girl? Do you long for him as you would for your daddy?”

Her muteness was met with more water. She had thought she might get used to it after a while, that her instincts would die down, but they didn’t. Every time was just as painfull and shocking as the first. But she couldn’t fail, wouldn’t fail. In the end, all she had to hang on to was the golf ball.

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“Did the two of you do naughty things, little girl?”

She did not notice her nudeness anymore, and if she had, it would not have mattered. Her skin was no longer of any protection, it was merely flesh, guiding the electricity, leading the water and letting her feel his hand on her arm as some sort of comfort for the pain he himself was subjecting her to.

She felt him untying her, and there was a glimmer of hope he would end early today, but he only turned her around so she was lying on her stomach and tied her back up.

“Should I do to you what he and I did together?”

It was whispered in her ear in a sultry voice, showing his true emotions, his own longing. He stroked the back of her legs, her bum and the her back, in slow, soft, long strokes, making her shiver and feel warm at the same time. But then his touches ended, and to her disgust she somehow missed them.

“What is that tattoo on your back, little girl?” He asked, and she somehow felt the startle in his voice. He must have seen it a hundrerd times, but only now did he seem to pay attention.

“If you don’t know that, then you must never have been really anyone in Russia, boy.” She replied, actually speaking to him for the first time in a very long while instead of screaming in pain. Her voice was croaked from disuse, but it still felt good.


	10. Domodedova Airport, december 20th 2009

“Get her.”

Strong arms lifted her up and carried her to a waiting car where she was wrapped in warm blankets. She closed her eyes and felt like a small child again, enveloped in the warm arms of a caring parent without a single care in the world.

“Look at me.”

The voice seemed to come from afar, and it took her a while for understand and then follow the command. The eyes she met were not as expected. They were not dark with widened irisses, they were not cold as ice and they did not look at her like she was prey. It was strange, seeing other eyes, seeing someone else, so she stared at them, trying to figure out what they were.

“We’ve got you back, everything is fine again and we’re bringing you home.”

For what seemed like hours she sat in the car in nothing but blankets, but the world slowly returned to her, or she slowly returned to the world. Lights were no longer bright stripes in her peripheral vision and words were no longer buzzing noises in her ears.

The car stopped next to the jet and she was picked up again in strong arms and carried into the plane were she was laid down onto a bed. But it wasn’t a bed. It had a matress, and blankets, and so it couldn’t be a bed. A bed was a cold, hard wooden board mounted to a dull concrete wall.

“I’ve got some clean clothes for you. Change whenever you’re ready.”

She wanted to sleep, but sleep only came after pain, and she hadn’t had that yet. Sleep was a reward for screaming load enough, letting him know he was good at his job. She looked at the clothes and recognized her shoes. Once, they were one of her favorite possesions, but now they seemed alien to her.

“We’re nearly there. Do you need help getting dressed?”

The task of going through the motions of putting clothes on to cover her skin seemed like a Herculian one, so she nodded. The eyes and hands became familair again, and she recognized them as Beni’s. He sat her up at the bed and took the blankets that had kept her warm away, softly pulling them out of her hands. His calm, methodical movements soothed her, reminding her of the care Oleg had taken of his every move.

“There, I’ll get your coat and sunglasses and I’ll get you home.”

The second time he said, she registered it. She didn’t want to go home, she had something important to do. She wouldn’t give up before her mission was completed, so she wouldn’t go home.

“I can’t go home, I have things to do.”

He hadn’t looked at her before, had avoided looking at her face, but now his eyes met hers.

“You need to go home, need to rest.”

“I WILL NOT GO HOME!” She suddenly screamed, and to her satisfaction she saw him jerk back, as if she slapped him.

“I will not go home.” She repeated. “I need my package and I need to do something.”

Beni nodded and walked away, to return a little later with an envelope, her envelope. Trembling, she opened it. She knew what she would find there, but wished for something different. Preserving _his_ privacy, she turned away from Beni, who was staring at her with concerned interest. When she had looked at he photo’s with detached taxation, she checked if the negatives matched, and then laid them next to her.

“I need a bag.”

Beni nodded again and went out to fetch her purse, coat and sunglasses. She felt the plane landing, and it both exhilerated and frightened her. She would be arriving, but that also meant she had to get out of this cocoon and into the cold.


	11. The Grid, december 21st 2009

The receptionist hesitantly walked over to the section D chief, wondering how the short-fused man would take his message.

“Mr. North, there is someone here for you.” He softly said.

“Who?” Came the barked reply, given without even looking at the receptionist.

“She did not say.”

“And you are not capable of removing a woman from the lobby, Gordon? You need the assistance of trained MI-5 agents to get rid of her?” Lucas asked sarcastically.

“I will get her to leave should you wish so, sir. But I think you should see her, or have her brought up here.”

“Why?”

“She—she claims to have invaluable information for you, sir.”

Lucas sighed. Civilians walking into MI5 with so called invaluable information had become the bane of his existance, as 90 percent of the time they were nutters and people with too much free time and existance in the other ten percent. But he could not afford to send her away and have it turn out she actually had real information later.

“Bring her up.”

 

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Her entrance was preluded by the clicking of high heels on the stone floor of the hallway leading to his office, and he turned his back to the door to show his desinterest in a classic move to make anyone eager to share more information for less than intended.

Something was being put on his desk. “Here are the photographs and negatives. There are no other copies, so they should not bother you again.”

He twirled his desk chair around so quickly he almost fell off it. “Charlotte!” he managed to utter breathlessly. “What are you—you are in—how come you--“. He stared at her, but saw little. Her face was mostly covered by large, Chanel sunglasses and the collar of her Burberry trenchcoat. The skin he did see was pale, and her cheek bones stuck out sharply. Yet, she still smiled, or pulled up the sides of her mouth to what was supposed to look like a smile.

“Come. Sit.” He got up and gestured to the chair in front of his desk when he finally gathered his wits, but she shook her head. “I can’t, Lucas. I just wanted to give them to you in person.”

“Please.”

Wordlessly she took off her sunglasses and did as he asked. He pulled up another chair and sat next to her, taking the enveloppe from his desk.But he didn’t look at it, staring at the dark circles around her eyes. He wondered what had happened that she looked so worn out and beaten down, but his attention was drawn by her fidgeting with something in the pocket of her coat. For a while, he didn’t say anything, instead concentrating on opening what she had brought him. Once he did, he saw the pictures, about half a dozen. He already knew what was on them, but actually seeing it made him shiver and he had to breath deeply to stop himself from retching.

“Did you see them?” he asked, fearing the answer he might get.

Tears welled up in her eyes. “Yes. I needed to check if the photgraphs matched the negatives.”

He looked down to his side, away from her. Shame burned within him, and bile started to come up his throat.

“They won’t bother you again, Lucas. Nor will their maker.” It was said in a soft, tentative manner, but her determination was clear.

He looked up. “You killed him?”

Charlotte shook her head. “I have him for you. Or someone else can do it, if you’re more comfortable with that.”

She started to get up, but he stopped her with a hand on her forearm. “Please don’t leave.” He whispered.

For a moment she stood completely frozen, staring at his hand on her arm with big eyes. When he noticed it, he immediately pulled back his arm, but it was too late. She ran out of his office as if she had seen a ghost, her heels rattling over the floor and her coat flying behind her. He saw his colleagues looking at her, but he didn’t join in their stares. Instead, he gazed out of the window and didn’t leave his post untill he saw her getting into a black navigator. After that, he burned the photo’s and the negatives in his trashbin.


	12. Upper Belgrave Street, december 24th 2009

“You forgot these.”

When the bell had rang, she had hesitantly lifted herself from the sofa. Her thoughts had been lost in the hypnotic light of the christmas tree, and with soft, warm blankets wrapped around her, she had felt as cocooned as she had in the car and the plain on the way back from Russia. But the shrill ringing brought her back to the here and now and dutifully she answered the call.

And there he was, standing at the top of the stairs to her door, the collar of his jacket up to somewhat protect him from the pouring rain and blistering cold wind, his hand held out with her sunglasses in them and a small, tentative smile ghosting over his lips.

“Yes.” Was all she could manage to say.

One of them would have to step forward so she could get the glasses, and when she didn’t, he did. He watched her reaction carefully as he approached, but when she did nothing he took another step and put them in her hand.

“It’s not a good time, Lucas.” She finally said in a delayed response to his presence.

“Could I please—Just for a minute.” He nudged his head to the street, indicating to the weather.

Silently she stepped aside and gestured for him to come in, closing the door behind him.“Give me your jacket, I’ll hang it over the heater so it’ll dry.”

He walked on through to the sitting room and took a seat on the sofa, looking around the spacious room. The only other time he had been here he didn’t have much eye for his surroundings, but now he could take his time and focuss on the details. One of the side walls was full with pictures in modern black frames, many of the same three people, though he also recogned several of Beni and other men he had seen on pictures at The Grid. Others showed her and other friends on several occasions; on holiday, going out, balls, birthdays, at banquets. There was even one of her and Nelson Mandela, his arm around her in an embrace. Disappointingly, he didn’t see one of him, but then, they had never taken one together. His eye was then drawn to the christmas tree that stood in the corner of the seating area, next to the dining area. It was the quintecential classic tree, decorated with red and green balls, ribbons and ornaments, and it cast a low glow with little sparkled where the lights met the balls.

“A drink?”

Her soft spoken question startled him and he took his eyes off the hypnotic lights. “Whisky?”

A moment later she put the glass in front of him and also sat at the sofa, though at the other side of it. “I owe you an apology. I was very tired and not feeling well, I hope you can forgive me for my behavior.” She said stiffly.

He smiled at her. “I know the feeling, there is nothing to forgive.”

A silence fell between them, she fidgeted with something in her hand, he pretended to be comfortable and enjoying his drink. He hoped she would start to talk, but after several minutes it became clear she wouldn’t. “Your tree looks impressive.” He sighed inwardly, this was definetely one of his more lame remarks, but he continued bravely. “Did you do it yourself?”

She shook her head. “I was—away for a while and Beni didn’t want me to come home to a undecorated house while the whole city is shining with lights, so he got some decorator to do it.”

Where did you go?” he asked curiously, wondering how a holiday would make her look like she did.

“Russia.”

“You went to—why?”

“Christmas shopping.” She answered blandly.

“How long were you there?”

“Six weeks or so.” Came the again emotionless reply.

“You must have done a lot of shopping then.”

She hummed in agreement. “I have many friends, and this year everyone’s heart seems to be set on those matroesjka dolls.”

“Yet you had time for another errand.”

“I did.”

“I know in our world nothing is free. What do you want in return?”

She jumped up and backed away from him, looking as if she had seen a cockroach running over her sofa. “There is no ‘our world’, Lucas. My world isn’t so fucked up that I would not recognize a kind gesture for what it is. But if you insist on giving something back, then do me the honor of leaving and let me be at peace on christmas eve!”

He swallowed thickly, recognizing her true disgust at his question and knowing he had really offended her. He wanted nothing more than to find out what exactly had happened, but the anger on her face made it clear he really wasn’t welcome anymore. After mumbling an apology he quickly left, softly closing the door behind him.


	13. The Grid, december 25th 2009

“You went to see her.” Harry ascertained, though it was unclear to Lucas how he knew.

“Yes.”

“Is she well?” His supervisor tentatively asked.

“Who knows.” He did not like the sudden attention Harry was paying to her wellbeing. He was an empathic man for his employees, and genuinely cared for them, but had never to Lucas’ memory been so towards individual people outside that circle. Especially not someone he suspected of being a spy.

“I thought you would know.”

“I brought her back her sunglasses, that’s it.”

It was clear that his justification of his whereabouts was not believed, but this time Harry did not seem to care about his lies. He had a bigger fish to catch. “We need her help.”

“I don’t think she will be very willing to help us.” Lucas said without disclosing the why and how. He did not want Harry to know about the photo’s nor what was on them.

“Either we go to see her together, or I’ll go alone. This is too important to take sensiblities into account.”

Lucas clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth. He was in a difficult position as he could not tell Harry but he didn’t want to see Charlotte again and ask for her help after last night.

“Anything the matter?”

“No.” He bit out, avoiding Harry’s curious gaze by turning his back on him.

“Then lets go.”

“You know where she is?”

“Yes.”

“You are having her followed?” He spun around to Harry, his eyes bulging with disbelief. Not even MI-5 members themselves were under such close scrutinization.

“She is somehow influential, knows something about you that you do not wish to elaborate on further and she is unstable. And do I need to remind you of the debacle with your last interest? I had a GPS tracker placed in her car. Now are you coming or not?”

He grabbed his coat and phone and quickly followed the chief, not wanting him to talk to her alone.

 

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“Here?” He looked around, seeing only a few shops and an optomitrist, but as it was first christmas day they were all closed, and he could not imagine her visiting them anyway, not with her taste and budget. The only other building of any significance was St. James’s, but as it was a church, he dismissed it.

“Yes. Put on you repentant face and be prepared to stand up and down for an hour. We’re going to a catholic mass.”

As they walked in among the other churchgoers, Lucas kept a sharp eye out for her, scanning the mostly dressed in black visitors. He did not see her then, but when he had taken a seat in the last bench, closest to the entrance, he smelled her before anything else. The subtle wave of Chanel Mademoiselle brought him back to the night they met, and he couldn’t help but smile a bit. When he looked up, she had just passed them, wearing a tan cashmere coat with a calf length black pencil skirt underneath it and black heels with the signature blood red soles. She took her seat further to the front, touching her forehead, chest, left shouder and right shoulder in reference to the cross before sitting down. Harry quickly got up and they took their seat next to her. When she noticed them, she only crooked an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything, focussed on the altar in the front of the church.

Harry had been right when he spoke about frequent standing up and sitting down again, Lucas just followed what Charlotte did so he wouldn’t stand out. But then suddenly everyone started to get up and stand in line in front of the priest. He hadn’t been paying attention to what was being said, too caught up in watching her and thinking about the events of last night. He quickly also got up to follow her, but she turned back at him and whispered: “You are not supposed to receive the holy host, you’re not catholic. Just wait there.”

He did as he was told, telling Harry to do the same. Ever since he was a teenager and had started to doubt the religion his father strictly raised him in, he had no patience for attending church. He could sit still for hours waiting for a target, but church somehow made him restless. At the end of the mass he decided that this mass was no different and that catholicism was not for him. Too much moving and not enough singing, though the decorations in the church were much nicer than the ones in his father’s church had been.

 

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“You seem to think that coming to me in person is more effective, Harry. But all it really does is show you are following me. For future references: calling and making an appointment is equally effective. And if you do not get whatever it is you put in my car, out, so help me God I’ll personally make sure you’ll end up as a bag carrier at Harrod’s!” She said when the mass had ended and they had walked out, Lucas seeing to his fascination that she had dipped her hand in the small basin of holy water at the exit and making a cross movement with her wet hand over her forehead, chest and shoulders again.

“We’re in front of a church, do you think it wise to use the Lord’s name in vain?” Harry replied dryly.

“Seriously, Harry, take it out and don’t damage my car. I have managed to keep it in one piece for much longer than I thought and I don’t want it ruined by your paranoia.”

Lucas will get it to our garage. I’ll drive you to the Grid.”

“No one is driving my car and I’m not going anywhere without knowing what this is about.”

“I could make you come.” Harry threatened half seriously.

But she didn’t fall for it and pursed her lips. “Do you remember last time that happened, Harry? I believe Nicholas already told you to leave me alone.”

Lucas felt her tense up, clearly feeling threatened by Harry’s bluntness, and he intervened. “We just need your help, nothing big. Please come, there’ll be tea.”

“I’m driving myself.” She firmly said, determinded to not just give in.

Lucas smiled. “I’ll come with you. Harry can follow us.”

He lost the smile very quickly once he was in the passenger seat and she started to drive, grossly neglecting the speed limits and scaring the odd runner on the streets half to death all the while throwing glances at him and if she was daring him to say anything about it.

 

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“We need Darshavin, and my intel says you have him.” Harry said when they were seated in his office at The Grid and Lucas jerked his head at Harry, thoroughly surprised he knew Charlotte had the one time Russian official.

But outwardly Charlotte didn’t flinch. “Perhaps you could offer me breakfast first, Harry, as you found it neccessary to ruim my christmas morning with hopelessly wishfull thinking.”

The only food he ever got at The Grid was take out organized by the receptionist so Lucas had no idea where Harry would ever find something eadible. But his chief got up and fixed some tea, even finding a biscuit to go with it, and when everyone was sipping their tea, he started again.

“Darshavin.” He said, his hands clasped in front of him on the table.

Charlotte blew her tea, looking at Harry over the rim of the cup.“I don’t know where you got your information, but he is mine.”

“I have asked around about you, and it was clear between the lines that the services of your employer are for sale. Surely yours must also be; for the right price.”

“I have no employer and I offer no services. I have an old friend that helps the right people do the right thing, that’s all.”

“The right Russian people?” Harry said sarcastically.

“For your employer. And China for a close ally of your employer and a dear friend of Lucas.”

So she knew, Lucas thought . She knew of Sarah and their relationship. He wondered again why she had retrieved the photos for him if she knew about Sarah.

“Syria?”

“Above your security clearance.”

Harry cleared his throat. “Let’s not get into this again. What do you want in return for Darshavin?”

“Before I even start contemplating giving him to you, I want to know what you want him for.”

Harry smiled, though it did not reach his eyes. “If I were to tell you, you would have to become part of her majesty’s secret service and sign the Secrecy Act.”

Lucas had expected Charlotte of either scoff at this statement, or just leave, but she did neither. Instead she nodded. “And what function do you have in mind for me?”

The question also seemed to be a surprise to Harry, as his eyebrows shot and he sat back.“Lucas, why don’t you give us a moment?” He said, without looking at his agent. Lucas nodded curtly an left the office, closing the door behind him with a little more force than absolutely neccessary.

“You wish to work here so you can be close to him again?”

Charlotte gave him a small smile. “You seem to think Lucas and I share a bond or have a relationship or something, Harry, but we don’t. “

“But surely you consider him a friend?”

Charlotte sighed. “After having worked with my friend for a couple of years, I wanted to settle down, study, perhaps have love or even a family. But I find that now that I have what I asked for, I have become bored. I am not suitable for the life of a spy, but I am not suitable for the civilian life either.” She sighed again. “So no, this had nothing to do with Lucas.”

“You look for something in between a civilian and a spy?”

“Yes.”

“Like a translator, or someone that can detangle the mess that international politics has become; someone with insider information.”

“Yes.”

“And you want me to arrange it for you. But why here?”

“I like the location.”

“I will be frank with you, Charlotte. I don’t know if I trust you. You seem to be protected from higher up, but at the same time you have worked for people that I believe to be highly suspicious.”

“In The Netherlands we have a saying: a man a man, a word a word. If I promise something you can take it to the bank, Harry. And my loyalty is not easily broken.”

“I will think about it.”

Charlotte got up and walked to the door and then looked back at Harry. “Don’t forget, you get what you need, and on top of that I can translate languages very few others can.”


	14. The Grid, january 2nd 2010

“Team, please let me introduce our newest member. Charlotte will be doing translating and general intel gathering work. She will be here when needed. Tariq, please give her the desk next to yours and get her started with the systems.”

After the tiniest hesitation caused by Lucas glaring at Charlotte standing next to Harry with a charming smile, Tariq jumped up from his chair and did as asked, while Lucas was still staring, almost open mouthed, and Harry went back into his office to make some phonecalls. Probably to postpone the no doubt angry conversation Lucas wanted to have with him.

The only one acting somewhat normal was Ruth, who brought her some tea while she and Tariq were staring at the computerscreen and Tariq explained the basic functionalities to her. The rest of the morning went by uneventfull, but she could feel Lucas’ glares burning holes in her back.

Tariq seemed a bit nervous, occasionally stuttering and looking everywhere but straight at her. When they were drinking Ruth’s tea he finally said: “So did you have a good new year?”

Charlotte shrugged. “Saint Barts. Beyonce and Usher performed for Khadaffi’s son and a friend of mine bought a table. But it was a bit boring and the son is always such a drag, just like his father really. Going on and on about how he would make Africa one big country and use gold instead of dollars as currency. He doesn’t realise it is going to get him into trouble. But the fireworks here in London yesterday were really nice, everyone dressed in their biggest coats and drinking hot chocolate.” She ended airily

“How could you be in St. Barts for new year’s eve and then still see the fireworks here?”

“We went by private jet of course.” She said like it was the most normal thing in the world. “And what did you do?”

“Just here. You know, watching the Big Ben at twelve, drinking with mates.”

Charlotte sighed happily. “I have the best memories ever watching the Big Ben with friends on new year’s. I think I’ll do that next year.”

Tariq looked at her wth big eyes and raised eyebrows. “What?” She asked, not understanding his reaction. He shrugged. “Nothing.”

“I’m going to get lunch, want something?”

“What are you going to get?”

“Don’t know, what would you like?”

“Thai?”

“Sure.” Charlotte got up and asked the others what they wanted for lunch, only Lucas rejecting. Then she made a phonecall and sat back down again, continueing to work. 45 minutes later she got another call, and a little later the receptionist brought in several bags with lunch. There wasn’t only Thai, but also sandwiches for Ruth, Chinese for Dmitri and Greek for Harry. Charlotte herself only ate a small salad.

“How did you get everything here at the same time?” Tariq asked in between bites of curry.

“My maid got it all and then brought it here. I always find it very annoying if everyone gets their food at different times, don’t you?”

Tariq just nodded, still stunned with the casual way Charlotte spoke about things that were completely out of reach for the biggest part of the population.

 

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“I will take you home and pick you up tomorrow morning, so you can leave your car here.”

When she had said goodnight to Lucas and Harry, the only two others still present when she was ready for the day, the first had followed her, putting on his coat as he walked.

“No need, Lucas. My car is in he garage so I have the car service today.”

“Even better.”

“I said there is no need, Lucas.” Charlotte said more determinded, abandoning the politeness with which she rejected the invitation, or order, in the first place

“And I say there is every need. We have things to discuss.”

He steered her towards his Lexus SUV and opened the passenger door for her. When they left the parking garage and Lucas turned right onto the narrow streets, he looked at her.

“Did you not tell me on purpose or did you just think I do not matter enough to be informed?”

“What do you want to hear Lucas?”

He hit the steering wheel forcefully. “I want an honest explanation!”

“I do not owe you one.”

His anger quickly turned into hurt. He had hoped her anger might have subsided, but he should have known it didnt, as he hadn’t heard from her since first christmas day.

“I see. Well, I am still chief of section D and I will have to make sure you function well as a team member.”

“What do you wish to say with that, Lucas?” He said, a hint of sudden hostility showing in her voice.

“I want to know what happened exactly in Russia, and I want you to start visiting a psychologist.”

“A psychologist?” She said, offensed by his intrusion in her private affairs.

“Yes, a psychologist. This work makes you vulnerable, and that makes you an unreliable teammember. If you don’t agree, please take it up with Harry. And one more thing: it is quite unprofessional to start flirting with colleagues on your first day of work.” Lucas replied curtly, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead of him in a stubborn attempt to gain the upper hand.

“I did not flirt with anyone, Lucas, you know that as well as I do. You doubted my honesty and loyalty once when you had no reason to. As a sign of my good faith I did something for you, but that does not mean you have any say over me, nor does it mean I will spend the rest of my life trying to get your friendship or approval or kindness or anything like that. And if you wish to act like this as a way to get rid of me from your team, I suggest you rethink your plan. And you don’t need to pick me up tomorrow, I only work when I’m needed.”

When he had to stop for a red light, she got out of the car and walked into a freezing and snowing London.

 

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“Yes?” Came the yawned out reply to the early morning phone call.

“We have some intel we need you to look at.”

After another big yawn, she said: “I’ll have a car in fifteen minutes, so I’ll be there in half an hour.”

“No need, I am waiting in front of your house.”

“I’m no at home, Lucas.”

“Then where are you?”

“None of your business, I’ll see you in half an hour.”

 

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When she walked into the Grid, her hair was in a messy bun, she was wearing a faded, ripped jeans with an Alexander McQueen t-shirt, Marc Jacobs flats and black glasses. A large, fur coat stood out against the rest of her outfit, but it also gave her somewhat of a punk vibe. It was quite the difference from the day before, when she had showed up for work in high heels and a black, tight dress, her make up and hair done impeccably.

“There is hightened activity on one of the message boards we’re watching, but it seems one of the leaders from Djibouti and a local important figure have been talking about their bellies for the last hour.” Tariq said, his face grey from fatigue.

Charlotte laughed. “Such sickly men.”

She sat down and started reading the conversation, and after a while Lucas came to sit on the edge of her desk, observing her while drinking a small bottle of coke through a straw. Only when he had almost finished the drink and started to make gurgling noises as his straw started to suck air, he spoke to her.

“You smell of cigarettes and alcohol.”

“I am very sorry if my presence offences you, Lucas. If you wish for me to look at this somwhere else I would be happy to relocate.”

“I want to know where you have been and how much you’ve had to drink.”

“I did not drink any alcohol, if that’s what you mean, Lucas. So you needn’t be afraid I can’t do my job. And as for where I have been, that’s none of your business.”

Lucas sighed and rubbed his face. “I’m sorry about yesterday, I did not mean to offend you or make you feel I don’t want you here. I just worry about you.”

“No need. I have made an appointment with a psychiatrist for later today.”

“A psychiatrist?”

“He came highly recommended.”

“You can give the bill to Harry.”

“No need. It is being taken care of.”

“By the friend you slept with tonight?”

Charlotte blew out a huff in derision. “I did not sleep _with_ anyone, Lucas. I just didn’t sleep at home. Do you sleep at home every night?”

He ignored the jab and went back to his own desk without saying anything more, intermitantly looking at her as she stared at the screen. Half an hour later, she went to Tariq’s desk.

“They are speaking about the French Foreign Legion.”

“An attack on the Foreign legion?!”

“No.” Charlotte said hesitatingly, a deep frown on her forehead.” I think there is a fraction within the Legion that is based in Djibouti that works with them. I can get more information but you need Harry’s approval for it as I need to call someone outside of MI5.”

Tariq rushed to his boss’s office and came back a couple of minutes later, nodding fervently. Charlotte retreated into the conference table and called someone, making animated hand gestured and variably laughed and looked serious. After half an hour or so, she came back to Tariq’s desk.

“There have been suspicions of covert mutiny, but nothing has ever been proven. Untill now, that is. They want to take over the base, I’m just not sure when.”

“Is it imminent? Can you find out?”

“I’m pretty sure they didn’t speak about it in this conversation but it didn’t sound like it would be in the next week, they only spoke of which soldiers are on their side. I made a list, a commander there should be able to identify the individuals by their nickname.”

“You think the commanders know nicknames given by Al Qaida terrorists?”

“I highly doubt Al Qaida given nicknames such as ‘beerbarrel’ and ‘top dog’, so they most likely just used the nicknames the soldiers already had.”

“Anything more?”

“No, it was prayer time for the English one. They will speak again tomorrow, around noon.”

“Thanks. Go home and get some rest, perhaps you could come in the afternoon if Harry has some questions.”

“Sure, just ring.”

“Do you need a taxi?”

“No, there is a car waiting for me.”


	15. Upper Belgrave Street, january 4th 2010

He hadn’t seen her yesterday, as her presence was not needed after all. But today there was a meeting with a liaison officer from the DGSI, their French counterpart. She needed to be there to show the officer the parts of the conversation that proved the infiltration of the foreign legion; the French were mistrusting as ever, he begrudgingly thought.

As he did not want his offer to take her rejected again, he hadn’t called in advance, but just drove to her house. When he rang the bell, it took a minute or so for the door to be answered, and when it was opened he saw an Arabic looking man, wearing the comfortable pajama’s he had wore once. He felt a strange urge to just bash at the man’s head untill there was nothing left but a bloody mess. Upon further examination of his feelings, he recognized them as jealousy, though he was not sure why he felt like that.

“I have come for Charlotte.” He stated bluntly without even as much as a ‘goodmorning’.

The man looked at him taxating and then walked back into the house. Even though an invitation was not given, he followed the man inside and waited in the sitting area. A few moments later, he heard angry voices coming from upstairs. At first he couldn’t make out the exact words, but as the voices became louder, they became more clear.

_“You said you wanted a more quiet life! After Russia you should take it slow!”_

_“I don’t want to anymore, I’m bored.”_

He couldn’t hear the words that were said after, as Charlotte spoke more softly. But when the man spoke again, he could hear it.

_“You are not well, Charlotte! Dr. Attalla..”_

_“Dr. Attalla! Dr. Attalla! I don’t give a fuck what he says! Do you think I do not know he tells you everything I say?! Stop controlling me, Beni!”_

_“Controling?! Goddamned Charlotte, don’t you see I am only trying to protect and help you?!”_

_“I do not need you to protect or help me, Beni! I want my own life!”_

_“You don’t need me to?! Fine, call someone else then to sleep here!”_

 

After that Lucas heard loud footstep thumping down the stairs, and he quickly moved away from the door to the hall where he had slowly moved to in an attempt to hear the conversation better.

“If anything happens, I will annihilate the lot of you and enjoy it!”

Lucas spun around, but only saw Beni leaving through the front door with big angry paces, slamming the door behind him. A moment later Charlotte came down, her smile almost radiant enough to hide the dark circles under her eyes. But Lucas knew the smile was just a mask, a way to make everything seem pretty and nice.

“Lucas, what can I do for you this morning?”

He contemplated saying something about the conversation he had heard and the man that had appearantely slept over on her request, but the dynamics between them were no longer as before. For him, seeing her after what she had done for him had erased the year before. But it didn’t seem like that for her. Her forwardness had been replaced by polite reservedness and her openness by polite shalowness.

“We have to speak with someone from the DGSI and I need you to be present to give the translation some credibility. You know the French: always distrustfull.”

“And you’ve come here to bring me a personal invitation?” She said while crossing her arms.

“I did not want another rejection of my more than excellent chauffeuring skills.”

Charlotte walked to the dining table and started putting smaller bags and clothes in a larger bag. When Lucas looked closer, he saw it was a Hermes Birkin. His ex-wife had been drooling over advertisements for the brand but never got closer than buying a fake one on a holiday in Turkey, yet Charlotte handled the bag as if it were a cheap shopper.

“I need my car today, I have an appointment later.”

“And your car service?”

“Not an option today. I’ll follow you.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take you to your appointment.” Lucas said decisively and he took the bag from the table and started walking to the front door.

“You sure?” She asked with a facial expression that looked remarkably like amusement.

He nodded, so she lightly shrugged and followed him to the car, putting a long leather coat over her short black dress and high heels.

 

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The meeting had been an absolute drag. There was no other word to describe the pigheadedness of the French liaison officer whom had not even had the professionalism to do something about that prissy French accent of his. Charlotte had sunk deeper and deeper in her chair, obviously as annoyed as he was with the endless sarcastic questions. She didn’t seem to have the experience with politics Harry and himself had, nor did she have the patience for it, though he thought that to be a bit out of charactre. But in the end she had gotten up, looked down on the liaison officer and said:

“If you are too stupid to see the severity of the situation, I will call Thierry Burkhard myself and I’ll make sure to make your stupidity known!”

When she started to walk out of the room the Frenchman had started sputtering, asking her if she knew the colonel of the thirteenth semi brigade of the French Foreign Legion in Djibouti herself, and how she knew him and a hundrerd other questions. And in the end, he had yielded and said he was going to do something with their intelligence.

After he left, Harry looked at her. “You don’t really know him, do you?”

She smiled sweetly. “Would I lie?” seeing their astonished faces, she actually laughed and shook her head. “Was there anything else, Harry?”

Harry waved at her as a dismissal and she went to her desk to collect her things and then returning to Lucas. It was already late in the afternoon and starting to get dark, and Lucas figuered she must be in a hurry. So he walked ot his ca rand held the door open for her as he did the day before last.

Upon exiting the parking garage he looked at her. “Where to?”

“Brixton.”

“Brixton?! It’s getting dark and you want to go to Brixton! In those clothes and with that bag?!”

Charlotte sighed. “I just knew I should have taken my own car.”

“Go to Brixton at night in a R8?!”

“No, the Audi is still in the garage. I only have the Bentley for now.”

As Lucas ranted on, she laughed a bit. “Just drive on, there won’t be any problem.”

“Where in Brixton?” He grunted.

“Stockwell Park Estate.”

“What?! I’m not taking you there! What the bloody hell are you going to do there?!”

“Breath in, breath out and stop trying to control me. I’m patroness to a project there, and today I’m invited to see how it’s going.”

“A project? Are you one of those softies, thinking learning them how to knit will get them out of their problems?!”

“No, I evolved. Turn left here.”

Driving into the housing estate, Lucas locked the doors and looked around suspiciously, eyeing the young black men hanging around.

“Come one Charlotte, you can’t get out here. They’ll have your bag before you know it.”

She pointed where he should stop and with a sigh he followed her direction. When the car was fully stopped she took her bag and wanted to get out. “I’ll wait here untill you’re done.” He said while grabbing her arm.

“Don’t bother Lucas, I’ll be late and someone will take me home. I’ll see you later.”

With that she got out of the car. When he saw several men approaching her he wanted also to get out but he saw her hugging one of them.

“Breezy, long time!” He exclaimed in a Jamaican accent. “You’s made us miss ya.”

“Then tonight will be even better. Now tell me who I’m going to listen to.”

“Sneakbo. He a new talent, real tight!”

Charlotte turned around and waved at Lucas. “Make sure no one bothers him.” She said to her friend, and they walked into the building.

 

At three in the morning Lucas shook awake with an awfully stretched neck and cramp in his legs. He had fallen asleep waiting for Charlotte, and appearantely he had needed the sleep as not even the loud talk between the youngsters hanging around had awoken them. But when he looked at the clock, he was awake in an instant and he jumped out of the car, holding on to hs Glock as he approached one the men he had seen greeting Charlotte.

“Where is she?”

“Where’s who, batty boy?” They smirked at him, coming closer in a circle around him.

He put his gun to the head on the one in front of her. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Relax man” Came the stereotypical reply. “We just making a joke. Winston’ll take you.”

And indeed one of the men nudged him to follow and they got into an elevator that smelled like the toilet in a crack house, what probably wasn’t far from the truth. When they finally reached the top floor Lucas took in a deep breath of fresh air in an attempt to cleanse his lungs of the earlier stench. The man led him tot he last flat and he closed his eyes in desperation at the thought of having to enter the no doubt evenly foul smelling dump. But to his surprise he saw a clean white hallway, decorated with several pictures of famous and less-famous rappers. Walking further into the flat the smell of marijuana became more and more overwhelming, and when they entered the living room, he stood in a blue haze. That however was not the most remarkable thing. Seven gangster rappers talking and rapping in whispers was.

“Where is she?” He said loudly, and they immediately all turned to him, looking ready to attack.

“Shu’ up, chupid!” One said, esturing to the sofa in the corner of the room where Charlotte was sleeping, curled up against some pillows.

Without saying anything he sat next to her, his eye continuously on the people in the room. The shifting on the sofa roused her, and with a small yawn she opened her eyes. She looked around the room with wonder and then smiled.

“If you’ve gotten so boring that I fall asleep, my money isn’t well spent.”

They laughed, their mirth no doubt enhanced by the amount of marijuana. “Nah Breezy. Sneakbo in the studio now, spittin’ bout white arm candy. You must really ‘ave inspired him!”

“Then my duty here is done. I’ll see you all tomorrow afternoon for the pick up.”

“Come a little early, breezy, it’ll be worth it.”

He got an amused smirk in return and she nodded.

 

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When they sat in the car, instead of driving away Lucas looked at her. “Why did you pack an overnight bag this morning?”

“Because I had expected to sleep here or something, but then you felt it neccessary to wake me up.”

He started the car and they enjoyed the warm air coming from the blower for a while. When they neared the crossing where he had to go left for his house and rght for hers, he looked at her again. “You want to sleep at your house or at mine?” He tried.

He had half expected her to get angry but instead she stared out of the window into the dark night. As she didn’t say anything he turned right to Belgravia and a few moments later he stopped in front of her house.


	16. The Grid, january 5th 2010

“I have what I promised you, Harry. Where would you like him?”

Harry looked at his newest teammember, somehow surprised she kept her promiss. “In our interrogation room I should think.”

She made a short phone call and a little later four men of Jamaican descent with thick gold necklaces and defiant looks came in, carrying a persian rug. After they unceremoniously dumped the rug on the floor, they actually fistbumped her and left again, throwing him some dirty glances.

Once they closed the door behind them, Charlotte roled open the rug with her foot, revealing a bound and gagged, and very bruised and bloody, Darshavin. Harry raised and eyebrow.

“Something went wrong during the transport?”

“He tried to escape this morning, but fell out of the window. Five times.”

“I see.”

“I’ll leave you to it now.” She said, and then turned to Darshavin. “Do not ever, ever forget who I am and who my friends are, Oleg.”

 

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“Lucas?”

Lucas looked up from his work and saw Harry nudging at him to come into his office. With a tired groan he got up and walked over.

“Close the door behind you.”

Once seated, he looked at Harry questionningly.

“Were you aware of the history between Darshavin and Charlotte?”

Lucas frowned, wondering how much Harry knew. “She took something from him, and then took him.” He said cautiously, knowing he could not feign ignorance.

“And between those occurances?”

Now he actually didn’t know what Harry was getting at, and he slowly shook his head.

“It appears Darshavin caught her first. And he wasn’t happy that she took something from him. He desperately wanted it back.”

It slowly started to dawn on Lucas, but her carefully schooled his expression to be neutral.

“I am wondering what Darshavin did to her exactly, and what she took from him. And I think you can help me with both questions.”

Lucas shrugged, trying to make it look as if the subject wasn’t of much interest to him. “As it stands, I can help with neither. I could find out , but it might take a while though.” He hoped it would work, as he desperately wanted to see Charlotte and get the truth about what had happened out of her.

“Do that. And report everything back to me when you know.”

As he started to walk out of the room, Harry called him again.”And I mean everything, Lucas.” With a short nod he left, already taking his phone out of his pocket.

 

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“What?”

He was a bit taken back by the grumpy reply, but decided to ignore it. “Where are you?”

“Why?”

“We need to talk.”

“Businesshours have long passed, Lucas. It’ll have to wait ‘till tomorrow.”

“Our job never ends, Charlotte. Are you home?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be there in 20.”


	17. Upper Belgrave Street, january 5th 2010

“Why don’t I make you a drink this time.”

She had started to get up from the sofa, but his hand on her knee halted her movements. She said nothing at his suggestion, merely raising her eyebrow.

“Juice?” He asked on his way to the kitchen.

“G&T. Hendricks, cucumber, not lemon.”

He changed his course and made their drinks for a couple of minutes, after which he rolled the whole cart over next to the sitting room table.

“Plans?” She was sitting rod straight, her arms crossed and sarcasm dripping off her face.

“A mission.” He replied with an amused smirk.

She nodded with pursed lips. “A mission? For which you need alcohol? If you intend to extract some kind of information from me when I’m drunk, I must warn you that I have gained some experience during my student years.”

“I thought you were all such hard working students at Cambridge.”

“During working hours. Now get to the point, what do you want?”

“Why do you have Darshavin? And why did you keep him so long?”

“For entertainment.” Charlotte downed her drink in one big gulp and then made herself another one.

“Entertainment?” Lucas asked when she sat back down.

“Have you seen Pulp Fiction, Lucas?” She asked.

He frowned, not being able to see where this was going. “Of course.”

“Then you must remember Marcellus saying something like ‘I’ma call a couple of hard, pipe-hitting niggers to work on the homes here with a pair of plyers and a blow torch’.” Charlotte answered in a flat voice.

“Shit.” Lucas muttered, rubbing his face.

Charlotte emptied her glass again in an big gulp. “You should leave now.”


	18. Upper Belgrave Street, april 24th 2010

He had been round several times in the past months, always using a different excuse to see her outside of work. Some peonese he had found at the florist outside the season that he thought she would like, a play she might want to see, take out from a new sushi bar she she would absolutely adore, things like that. Sometimes she would invite him in, other times she told him it was inconvenient. He never pushed her, and always took rejections kindly, hoping for better luck the next time.

This evening was nothing different. He had seen the last season of Breaking Bad in the cd store and had bought it on a whim, hoping she hadn’t seen all episodes yet.

But the door wasn’t opened by her, but by a rather dour looking Beni.

“Yes?”

“Charlotte in?” He asked casually, though his mind was working overtime trying to think of reasons why the Arabic might be here. Was she back together with him? Was she going to move? He did not know, and the uncertainty made hin uncomfortable.

“A moment please.”

Beni walked into the living room and out of his sight. _“That MI-5 man is here again. I thought you were no longer involved with him?”_

Lucas did not hear her reply, but a moment later she came to the door, a very small smile gracing her lips. “Lucas, what can I do for you tonight?”

“I was at Virgin Records and saw the new season of Breaking Bad. Would you like to watch it togeher? With tea and stuff.”

She smiled fully now. “As long as it is with ‘tea and stuff’. But tonight’s not really a good time, can I call you for another time?”

She seemed lighter somehow, less weighed down by sadness, and he was happy for it. “Sure, let me know.”

It was the oddest thing; at work they never spoke about his visits, as if work and not work were two completely separate worlds that were not related to eachother in any way. It certainly felt like that to him. He did not see her at work a lot anymore. He often had to go somewhere, even more so after he had become teamleader and she wasn’t present at the Grid a lot. So he never asked her when they would watch the series, but waited for an invitation in silence.


	19. Harley Street, june 6th 2010

She sat in the large, velvet wingchair, her legs pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them.

“You really should be doing this as an inpatient, Charlotte. I can’t have you go home and stay by yourself after this.”

She shook her head and wiped away her tears. They had finally gotten to the point that she was able to tell the therapist what had happened to her in Russia by Darshavin, and all she wanted to do was go home and curl up in her bed. “I’m fine.”

“I’m serious, Charlotte. Either have someone pick you up and stay with you or I’ll arrange for a place in the clinic for a night.”

She clenched her jaw. She knew Beni wouldn’t get her out of this, he had granted these liberties to the therapist in the first place. A sense of betrayal and hopelessness flooded her. Not one of her friends would understand, and she really did not care to explain it to them. Except for perhaps one. After a moment of hesitation, she took her phone out of her purse and dialed his number.

“Yes?”

“It’s—“ She had to take a deep breath to overcome her nerves. She had treated him badly, not calling him back after all his kind gestures, and she feared his reaction. “it’s Charlotte. I wondered if you would do me a favor.”

He laughed, not picking up on the tension in her voice. “What’s this favor then?”

“I need you to pick me up and stay at my house for the night.”

“On my way, what’s the adress?”

“7 Harley street.”

“Be there in 10.”

After she hung up, she turned back to her psychiatrist. “I’ll be picked up in 10 minutes.”

“Was that him?” The somewhat greying doctor asked, his hands on his slightly too round belly.

She hummed in answer to his question and stared out of the window into the dark and wet winter evening.

“Do you think it is wise to ask him? After all, you two have quite the history.”

“He was the only one I could think of that would come without judging.”

“And how do you feel about seeing him now, outside of work? You have told me several times you wanted to call him, but always put it off.”

“I—I don’t know. I feel guilty I guess.”

“For not calling?”

“For not returning his kindness. He owed me nothing, yet he kept coming back to check on me.”

“You say he owes you nothing, yet you are sitting here because of something you did for him.”

“He never asked for it, not even hinted. So no, he owes me nothing.”

“But—“

“No! I know it is your job to make me look at things from another perspective, and normally I’m always willing to go along. But not this.”

The docter slightly bowed his head to her. “I am happy to see there is at least something you’re sure about.”

She wanted to reply, feeling a bit prickly by his last remarks, but she was cut off, or saved depending on the point of view, by the bell. She got up and put on her coat. “I’ll be by tomorrow.” The psychiatrist said while shaking her hand. “And do not say you’ll come here. It is high time I make a housecall.”

She only nodded, and then walked out of the room, through the waiting room and out into the cold.

Lucas had been intrigued when she had called him, not really expecting to hear from her. His heart had skipped a beat at hearing her voice, and he had immediately jumped in his car. But now he was standing in front of what eappeared to be the office of a renowned Harley street psychiatrist. Either it was just a facade or something was really wrong.

“You alright?” He asked when she stepped out, her face mostly hidden in the collar of her coat.

To his relief she nodded. “It is all a bit blown up, but thank you for coming.”

He opened the car door for her. “I’m just glad you thought of me in your hour of need.”


	20. Upper Belgrave Street, june 6th 2010

“You don’t really have to stay, I’ll be fine, and I guess you are busy enough.”

“ Don’t worry, I’ve made teamleader more of an adminstrative function. So I am perfectly alright staying with you.”

She looked at him inquisitive. “What turned you into a dog with two tails? If I remember correctly, you’re not one for sitting at a desk.”

A somewhat sad smile appeared on his face. “You. You calling _me_ , asking _me_.”

“Drink?” She asked, trying to deflect.

“Strong.”

She nodded and walked over to the liquor cabinet. “Would you?” She asked, gesturing to the fireplace.

“Certainly.”

A surprisingly short amount of time later there was a fire going and they were having a drink on the sofa. He eyed her glass, and asked: “Vodka with orange juice?”

“You caught me, I have an appaling taste in drinks. If it would make you feel better I can open a bottle of Petrus and sing its praises.”

He nearly choked on his drink, and the alcohol burned in his throat as he burst into laughter. He held his hand in front of his mouth and shook his head. “Just surprised, that’s all.”

After a long silence, he turned to her. “Are we going to talk why your psychiatrist didn’t want you to be alone?”

“He’s normally very insightfull, but he missed his mark this time. I guess he was afraid I would harm myself or something.”

She got up and walked to the cabinet again, but instead of just refilling her glas, she took the bottles of vodka and whisky and a carton of orange juice and placed them on the table, mixing a glass for herself and looking at him questioningly. He finished his drink with a big gulp and then handed his glass, which she generously filled.

They drank for a while, the silence only broken by short questions or comments. After their fifth, she started to feel a bit fuzzy, a warm feeling spreading through her chest.

“Why did your psychiarist think you would harm yourself?” He asked, ending her confort.

“Because I told him what happened in Russia.”

“Only water?” He asked, knowing that that one word would be enough. “Or more?”

She huffed in derision, though he clearly saw the vulnerability shimering in her eyes. “It is of no importance.”

“I believe it is. Waterboarding alone doesn’t make you frantic when being touched, and it doesn’t make you not want to be alone in a confined space with men. You saw me, now let me see you.”

“I wish I never saw those photo’s, Lucas. I knew I had to check if everything was in the envelope, but I wish I hadn’t.”

He grabbed her shoulder and looked straight at her. “I need to know. Did he—defile you?”

“Defile, what an interesting choice of words.” She huffed. “It could mean so much. Anything that has something to do with gross stuff really. Or do you perhaps mean if he tied me to my bed face down and fucked me untill my face was smeared with my own tears, snot and spit?”

“Let’s not fight over semantics.” He said in a hoarse voice, taken back by her cruel reply. “I’ll put it more clear: did he rape you?”

She stared into the fire and then poured herself another drink, straight vodka this time, immediately chucking down half of it. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and then faced him again. “No. It appears he is more of a men’s man, I don’t think he could get it up. Instead, he spoke about you.”

“About me?”

“He—touched me. He would run his fingers over literally every spot on my body—He would whisper the things you would say, how you would look at me, what you would do.”A tear fell down her cheek and she took a deep breath. “He must have known he would not get what he wanted in the limited amount of time he had as it was no longer torture in order to get his photo’s back.”

He could not speak, his jaw constricting as a sign he was going to throw up. After what he had been through and what he had seen, he did not think much would shock him, but this did. The cruelty of it shocked him to his core. She was right, it was not meant as torture, but as revenge. Against him.

“I sent him back to Russia to face the wrath of the government he once worked for.I—“

“He pulled the right strings and was let go. No one could have foreseen that.” She said flatly. The conversation had sobered her, and she already regretted telling him. “I need to take a shower, please excuse me.”

“He has gotten you in an extra difficult position, hasn’t he?” Lucas spoke calmly as she walked towards the hallway. “Making you want to shower in an attempt to wash the memory of his touches away, but at the same time making you hate the feel of water on your face.”

“I need to shower.” She quickened her pace and went upstairs. He was right, as he usually was. She had tried just washing over the sink with a cloth, but it just wasn’t enough, it didn’t feel clean enough. So she forced herself to step under the relentless stream of the shower, trying to keep her face dry, but unable to do so if she needed to wash her hair. For a while she had tried to only let her hair be washed at the hairdresser, but she found it too difficult to sit back in the chair, her head fixed in the recess of the sink, someone else handling and controlling the water, so she went back to showering as best as she could.

“Breathe. Just breathe calmly.” He had opened the door just the tiniest bit so she could hear his voice but still have her privacy, and he was now trying to help her. But it only made things worse, as it was another reminder he would never want her again. She knew she could have stopped Darshavin from doing anything with the photographs with just one phonecall, but she wanted Lucas to see. To know that she was on his side and would do anything for him. And she thought that if she got them, he would never have to worry about it again. The first sign of the flawed plan should have been Beni refusing help. Not flat out of course, but he had dismissed her plan and had strongly adviced against it. So she went on her own and it had backfired completely, this just showed it again. Unable to hold herself up, she sat down on the shower floor and started crying.

For a moment he hesitated but then he opened the door further and stepped into the bathroom. He stripped down to his boxer briefs and then opened the fogged showerdoor. “I won’t look.” He said calmly, in what he hoped would be a soothing voice. “I’m going to sit behind you and help you.”

Slowly he did as said, but he got no reaction. She sat with her legs pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around them and her head burried in her elbow. He softly wiped her hair to her back, keeping it from sticking to her forehead and arms, and then put some showergel in his hands and made circular movements on her back.

“My—my therapist did this for me, and it really helped. With your permission, I’m going to wash you and your hair.”

“My permission?’ She snorted, halfway between a laugh and a sob.

“Yes, your permission. If you tell me to stop, I will. No questions asked.”

She nodded, and he expanded his movements to her lower back and arms. With a small smile he noticed she enabled him, holding her arms up a bit and bending her head so he could reach her neck.

“Do you—do you want me to wash the rest of you, or your hair?”

“I’ll wash my hair myself.” She softly said, and although she didn’t outright say that she wanted him to, he got up and sat in front of her. She kept her legs to her chest, but did let him take her right arm. DIligently he started the small circular movements again, slowly moving up from her fingers to her wrist, her elbows and her shoulders. After doing the same to her left arm, he moved to her legs. After washing the lower part, she stretched them a bit and he got on with her thighs. But then, to his eternal shame and utter annoyance, he felt himself getting aroused. His mind knew this was about helping her and not in any way an attempt for anything more, but his body did not seem to get that message. In any other situation he would have been able to hide it, but here, wearing only skin tight boxer briefs, there was no disguising it. When he looked at her face, he knew she had seen it as well, her eyes locked on it for several seconds. After that, she looked up at him.

“I’m really, really—It is just.” He stammered, not knowing what else to say.

“I understand. Do you want me to leave?”

“I won’t harm you, Charlotte. Please believe me. I would never—“

“I know. I’ll wash my hair.”

She got up and turned away from him, carefully massaging first shampoo and then conditoner into her scalp and hair.

When it was done, she turned back to him and took the shower gel. She started to wash him as he had her and he closed his eyes. “Charlotte, I, this is—“

“What do you want me to do?”

He clenched his fists and jaw, breathing in deeply. His cock was fully erect now, and he felt the urge to touch her again slowly take over. Somewhere in his mind he felt he shouldn’t do this. He should just step out of the shower, dry off and sleep in one of the guest rooms. ``

 

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Charlotte was sitting against the headboard, looking at her phone, when he softly knocked at the door.

“Where do you want me to sleep?” He asked, looking to a point about five centimeters above her head as he was too ashamed to meet her eye. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not. Sleep wherever you like.” She replied without a trace of resentment in her voice.

He knew where he _wanted_ to sleep, where he had intended to sleep to make her more comfortable, but the scene in the shower had suddenly changed all that and now he did not know what to do. The time he could linger at the door without things really becoming awkward swiftly started to shorten yet he still couldn’t decide.

“I honestly didn’t mind, Lucas.” She said as she turned down the banket at the other side of the bed.

Relieved, he turned off the light and crawled in next to her. For a while, they just laid next to eachother, both pretending to be asleep. In the early hours of the morning the actually fell asleep, and when he woke up in the middle of the night, he found her lying on her belly, the fingers of her right hand softly touching his chest.


	21. Upper Belgrave Street, june 7th 2010

“Miss Charlotte’s stepped out, said she had some work to do.”

It seemed to be a recurring event, waking up alone in Charlotte’s house. At least this he was informed of her absence by a human being instead of a note or nothing at all. The maid poured him some coffee, but he politely declined all her offers of cooking hum a breakfast. The things he had heard and seen last night still made his stomach turn, so baked beans, or even just some cornflakes, did not souns so appealing at the moment.

After finishing his coffee, he got dressed in yesterday’s clothes and also left the house. But instead of going to his own flat to put on a fresh attire, he drove immediately to The Grid. If Charlotte told her maid she had some work to do, she would no doubt be there, though it was strange he wasn’t also called.

 

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Walking into the MI-5 command room, everyone was staring at their screens, a bit bleary eyed due to the early hour. He stuck his head around the door of Harry’s office to make his presence known, and looking up from the dossier he was reading, Harry made a small movement with his hand to indicate Lucas should come in and close the door behind him.

“Heard anything from Charlotte?” His boss asked him, seeming genuinely interested.

Lucas schooled his face to hide his confusion. “I saw her last night, but I have not yet gotten the answers you are looking for.”

Harry scowled. “Darshavin isn’t talking either. I suppose I don’t have to make it clear that it is very important to find out if he isn’t holding some kind of sway over her, right Lucas?”

He nodded firmly once, and got up. “I’ll find out.” He said before quickly leaving the office and almost running back to his car.

 

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“Miss Charlotte is away and won’t be returning anytime soon, sir.” The maid said, standing in the doorway and blocking his view on the interior of the house.

“You told me she had some work to do not two hours ago!” Lucas exclaimed angrily.

The maid looked at him empathically and nodded a bit. “I am sorry, sir, her plans have changed last minute. Shall I give her a message if I see her?”

“Just tell her she needs to call me.” He bit out before angrily walking away.

 

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She never called him again, and for all the possibilities MI-5 had at their disposal, he was unable to find her anywhere. Her known contacts also seemed to have vanished or were unwilling or unable to give him any more information, her cars stood unused in the garage near her house, her phonenumber was disconnected, her passport unused and her creditcards lay dormant.

He sometimes sat in his car outside of her house at night, watching it and thinking of her. Rationally speaking, he had only known her for a very short amount of time, and it could all be boiled own to a complicated fling. But in his heart he knew it was more than that. It was a real connection, that could have grown into something real. But, as he thought, he had pushed her too hard too fast by forcing her tell him what happened in Russia.

 

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He only stopped watching the house when, as the Americans would put it, the shit really hit the fan. Vaughn came back, and with him the repressed memories of the biggest and deadliest mistake of his life.

 _“I did not know”_ sounded like a pathetic excuse, even to his own ears. So the truth would not set him free, no one would believe him, as he had taken the identity of a man murdered by Vaughn. So he tried everything he could to meet Vaughn’s demands; but it wasn’t enough.

The day Harry confronted him in his office, his world shattered.


	22. Home Office, june 6th 2015

Five long years it had taken him to redeem himself. Five years in which he, under normal circumstances, would have climbed higher up the ladder of Britain’s secret forces, perhaps even get Harry’s job. But instead, he had had to work his way down from the bottom again to be reaccepted into his team. Even further down than the bottom, as newcomers were offered a certain amount of trust, and he had lost all that his coworkers had in him.

So when he had to get into the same stuffy limo to go to the HS’ party for the fifth time in a row, he did not feel bitter or annoyed, but rather thankfull he still could, even though he had believed to be off the hook this year only to have Harry change his mind literally an hour before they were supposed to leave. And the fitting suit and shoes made all the difference, he had noticed the first time he was told to do this least desirable task of the MI-5 to-do list.

He went with the motions, and as time seemed to stand still regarding these parties, that was an easy job. The same peope, the same sucking up and the same conversations. Year after year after year.

Only once had he found this party somewhat entertaining, but the guest that had made it tolerable for him, had not been seen for many years. Some evenings when he laid in bed, in that stage between sleeping and waking, he wondered if it all had been real; if she was real or if she was some figment of his imagination, invented when he needed a friend the most. But this evening, looking at his bespoke suit that still looked as new, he knew she had been real, and what they had had was real.

“We’re here.” Harry said in the same tone as every year, and while they were walking to the security posts at the entrance, Lucas wondered why Harry still went every year.

After passing the same security guards patting him down in the same teeth clenchingly thourough way as every year, they walked into the ballroom. To his surpise, it was different this year. No stuffy cocktail setting, but a real ballroom with an orchestra and everything. There were some small tables on the sides of the ballroom, but it was clear that guests were expected to dance, and the number of people atending far exceeded the number of seats. _Lovely_ he thought, imagining all the stuck up, boring old bats he’d have to dance with. But on the sunny side, he wouldn’t be expected to hold horribly predicatble conversations with cigar smoking, slightly overweight men that all believed themselves important enough to know Britain’s secrets.

The second surpise of the evening was that David Cameron and his wife were present. Of course the prime minister was invited every year, but they normally never showed up.

“He must be very thankfull he finally got a majority again.” Harry whispered to him, and a slight grin appeared on his face.

And that was when he saw her. Although only seeing her back, he immediately recognized her. Wearing a flowy, poppy colored backless dress, her telltale tattoo was clearly visible. But he didn’t need to see the words that almost defined her, nor the honeycolored shiny strand or her confiden stance. It was the crystal clear laugh she produced when Samantha Cameron appearantely told something funny, that gave her away, perhaps in combination with the sultry tones of her signature perfume.

“You knew?” he asked Harry without taking his eyes off Charlotte.

“I hoped. I got the guest list this afternoon.” Came the unapologetic reply.

“Hence taking me instead of Dimitri.” Lucas said, his mind twirling over what might happen.

But before Harry could say anthing else, the orchestra started playing and people were invited to dance by the HS, she herself immediately being asked by some antique parliament member. Lucas feet immediately steered him towards Charlotte, but to his disgust he saw Cameron extending his hand to her and leading her to the dancefloor.

They could easily be seen amongst the numerous other dancing pairs, as the orange-red colour of her dress always gave her position away amongst the black and jewel toned clothes of the other guests. And Lucas’ eyes were glued on her every second of the excrutiatingly long dance.

His face must have given away his emotion clearly, as Harry leaned towards him and said: “The song must end sometime, and Cameron will probably have to ask his wife to dance.”

Lucas only grunted in reply, a bit prickly over the fact that he hadn’t been told she would be present. He would have shaven if he had known.

But after what seemed an eternity, the song ended and Charlotte returned to one of the seats, her place on the dancefloor taken by Cameron s wife. Instead of running to her, as he wanted to, he took measured steps towards his goal, and then carefully sat down.

“You seem to enjoy it more this time than the last time I saw you here.” He said with a small smile.

Charlotte turned towards him as if she was stung by a bee and stared at him with big eyes and a slightly open mouth. “Lucas! You were not---It is---How are you?”

If it had not been for the implications of the other words she spoke, he would have been amused by the way she fell back to politeness in her confusion. But as it stood, she did not seem happy to see him.

“I am well.” He replied with bland politeness, being able to hide his emotions better than her. “And you?”

She sighed deeply. “That did not come out the way I meant it. I was merely surprised, as I was informed one of your colleagues was to accompany Harry tonight.

“I am sorry if I’m a disappointment.” He said callously, and he started to get up to leave the table, leave the party and go home to stay in bed for at least a week, job be damned.

But Charlotte softly put her hand on his, wordlessly asking him to stay. “You’re not a disappointment, Lucas, you know that as well as I do.”

“But?” he urged her to finish her thoughts, in a position halfway between sitting and standing.

She looked at him untill he properly sat back down again, and then averted her eyes to her lap before looking at him again. “It means I have to explain myself, and I have been putting that off for five years.”

For several moments it was quiet between them, and Lucas just enjoyed the touch of her skin on his. “No, you don’t have to explain yourself. You don’t have to explain anything. You just did what i wished I had done.”

A small smile of relief appeared on her face, and whn the next dance started, he offered her his arm and led her to the dancefloor.


	23. Epilogie

“You’re staring, Lucas.”

A hand on his shoulder drew him from his thoughts and he looked up at the man he owed so much to.

“I have a right to.”

“You most certainly do, though only the Lord knows why she has granted you that priviledge.” It was said in kindness, but in reality Harry did sometimes wonder why Charlotte had gone back to Lucas after everything that had happened. It turned out she had known about Lucas/John Bateman for a long time, lich longer than him, before Lucas had told her a few months after the HS party, yet she had remained quiet about it, and continued to do so. But from his work he knew people do strange things, inexplainable to others, and have dark secrets that bond them.

“She’s looking lovely today.” He added to make sure there was no acidity to be found in his remark.

Lucas agreed, but looked at Harry with a small frown between his brows, his eyes turning a bit darker. He was possive of her, and even a genuine compliment could spark a flash of jealousy in him.

“A bit fuller lately.”

He got where his mentor was going, and he relaxed into a smile. “Yes.”

“When were you planning on telling us?” Harry grinned, relieved he hadn’t just called the girlfriend of his most unpredictable agent fat.

“When she’s ready.”

A cold shiver ran up Harry’s spine. It was clear to him that Lucas was most happy with this new development, but if Charlotte wasn’t, it would be a major complication. He had started to trust Lucas again, but he never forgot how Charlotte, or the lack thereof, could bring him off balance. It was a valuable lesson learned the hard way, and it had stuck. So his worry at this point was understandable, to his belief.

“Ready?” He tentatively asked.

“She doesn’t want to be perceived as weak all of the sudden. She thinks she will have to sit at home and be cuddled.”

Harry laughed, both at Lucas’ forthrighteousness as relief. “How far along is she?”

“Five months.” Lucas said with a big smile.

“The she’ll have to go on leave within a month.” Harry calculated, wondering how they had kept it a secret for so long.

“That would bet he problem, Harry. She knows how much time she _has_ to take, and doesn’t want to go above that before the birth.”

Harry scrunched up his face. All the women he knew were happy to start their maternity leave as soon as possible.

“It’s not financial problems, is it? Because she’ll get full pay from MI5.”

Lucas laughed loud and deep with mirth, shaking his head. “Certainly not”

Charlotte chose that moment to turn away from her conversation with Tariq and stare at her computer while yawning with fervor, rubbing at her temples. Immediately Lucas got up and walked over to her, put his arm around her and whispered something in her ear. When rewarded with a smile, he softly started to massage her scalp, and she leaned into his touch. Harry smiled at the display of family bliss.


End file.
